


Let the Past Die

by JadedWarrior



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hate Sex, Injury, Modern Era, Musicians, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Rough Sex, lovers reunited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 63,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26452546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedWarrior/pseuds/JadedWarrior
Summary: After a car accident shattered her life, Rey pushed Ben away so not to hold back his rise to fame. Now, Dark Prince of Death Metal Kylo Ren is back to strip away her secrets with his own brand of sensual revenge.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 556
Kudos: 675





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for invaluable feedback Dr Roslyn, Aurora and Elle66!!

**_Now_ **

She shouldn’t have bolted. And worse, after Rey gasped his name and knocked over the crackers and the caviar, she shouldn’t have called the manager on duty.

But then again, when one delivered appetizers and three champagne flutes to the penthouse suite of Chandrilla’s poshest five star, one didn’t expect to run smack dab into their ex.

Kylo Ren.

Of course, Kathleen nor the other managers, could disclose to the ordinary staff he stayed here while in town.

“Jesus, don’t make him wait.” And Kathleen flexed her hands, fully prepared to sink red tipped nails into Rey’s bicepsin this last-mile walk to deliver the apology he insisted on.

None of this was real. The doctors told her the disassociation was a form of PTSD, a new take on the nightmare that plagued her for eight years. Except this time, instead of glass shredding her skin, she had to face him for the first time. In person.

Instead of blood, she had the remains of red caviar on her skin.

“Lord Jesus, I don’t care what Maz says, you’re so fired.” And with that parting shot Kathleen straightened her charcoal pinstriped suit—no grab grey uniforms for management—and knocked on the brass trimmed door.

He made them wait—of course he did. The paparazzi loved his flair for the theatrics. When the door finally swung open, Rey jerked her gaze down so not to look directly at him, and still couldn’t escape glimpses of pale skin and jagged swirls ofink.

He hadn’t bothered putting on a shirt. Then again, in her nightmare, why would he?

His guests—and he must’ve loved Rey seeing them, two beautiful women who had to be models, arranged themselves by the twin chairs by the window, no doubt eager for a show.

Champagne more costly than her car soaked into the plush carpet, the dark spot by his bare feet. It was the sight of his toes, the way the smallest ones were crooked, the sheer intimacy of seeing them again, that had Rey swallow tears.

She honestly didn’t think after eight years seeing him would hurt this bad.

But then again, the nightmare. Not real.

She just watched it from somewhere above, both spectator and participant, there and somehow out of her body.

“Mr Ren,” Kathleen put the breathy in her voice, shoving Rey into the room. “We can’t apologize enough.”

Breathe. All Rey had to do was take in air and keep on looking down. Not stare at this embodiment of pain, the cruel beauty of her past.

Except if she breathed too deep, her back would crack, and she couldn’t stand the sound.

“This... person,” His voice whipped over her in ice-cold fury. As if he didn’t know who she was. “Ruined our shoot.”

“I’m so sorry Mr. Ren.” Behind her, Kathleen all but cowered.“We’ll get this cleaned up immediately and—“

“This is how you train your staff?” His voice, that deceptively soft velvet, scraped over Rey in a caress ofbroken glass. If this was just another variation on the nightmare, soon she would be inside the car, and—

CRASH.

She jumped at when the remaining cutlery clattered into the puddle.

“She—,“ he may as well have called her trash, and Rey could all but feel his gaze on her, that icy fury.”—will clean this shit up. After she apologizes.”

The funny thing—if things could actually be funny—Rey had apologized a thousand times. During those first grueling months, she looked at the missed calls and wept silent I’m sorrys.

Not real, she told herself. What was the harm?

“I’m sorry,” she murmured through the gravel in her throat.

“What was that?” And though she still wouldn’t lift her gaze, Rey all but felt the snarl.

Kathleen used the pause to push her forward once again, her hand right at that spot, right into her already aching shoulder.

But pain? Pain was a tool, one Rey used to survive. She floated deeper, inside and outside herself, watching him from outside her body, this beautiful man who had meant... everything.

“When one apologizes, they look a person in the eye.”

Snickers from behind him, quit snorts from the beautiful audience.

He wanted her humiliation? Tears? She wasn’t that far outside herself that she couldn’t oblige. Rey let them well up past her eyelids, took one last breath and she lifted up her chin to met his gaze for the first time.

The shock of it, the potency of his eyes on hers again, had her snapping right back to the scalding surface.

Gods, the fury. Or maybe, after all these years, simply wounded pride.

Same face—but different. Leaner. Weathered. Scarred—at least they had that much in common.

On him, the scar looked dashing, a brutal slash to amplify the beauty of his face. Brutal angles, sensual lips. His hair hung long to his shoulders, his arms and chest covered in jagged black ink. Her name on the inner left swell of his pectoral—his first tattoo after she sank her teeth into his skin—was now obscured by thorn-twined bold letters.

FUCK above the scripted Sunshine.

“I am sorry,” she whispered, and looked directly into those disgusted eyes, this time her mind completely entrenched in the present. She owed him that much.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll get this all cleaned up and—“

“You think that’s all it takes? You just say sorry and everyone is happy?” He leaned into her space, his frame, once so familiar, crowding her space, with Kathleen blocking the door behind her.

And since Rey was back in the present, and since the scabs of memories had been ripped off again, she couldn’t stop her body from responding. Despite the slick blonde poured into red leather, despite the elegant redhead slick in shiny black, both of them leaning forward in their seats. Rey couldn’t control the sudden rising wave of heat.

A glimmer. A word. A beat shimmered somewhere in her consciousness, and she stood deathly still, terrified something would crack and that fragile rhythm would disappear.

Something about his beauty. And he was indeed still beautiful, more so then she remembered, the face of an angel that has fallen to the dark.

That’s what the tabloids called him, wasn’t it? The Dark Prince of Death Metal?

_**Beauty.** _

Pinned frozen by his gaze, Rey stared at his mouth.

She loved his mouth.

In those fleeting tense seconds, memories swirled in her head, scenes of those lips demolishing a pizza, laughing, mouthing lyrics. Pressing soft heated kisses to her skin, so slow, controlled, because he loved making her scream.

Those same lips parted now, his gorgeous voice flaying strips of silk over her senses.

“Finished eyefucking me?”

_**You gut me with your beauty.** _

Those eyes, so dark, so soft whenever he looked at her, iced over.

“Get the fuck out of my face.”

****

She had the nerve, the fucking gall, to mouth emo lyrics at him?

“How are we going to shoot now?”

The Blonde—Benzine?—sauntered closer in suicidal heels, her hand sliding up on his arm, jerking his attention away from where Rey ran—limped???—out of theroom.

“Christ, you’re bleeding too. That’s great. That’s simply perfect.”

In the sudden silence, where the only sound was Kylo’s labored breathing,more faces poked out of the bedroom—makeup and hair pro who had been packing up, along with the spike haired light designer.

Everyone wore the same strategic expressions: eyebrows set, mouths closed in a firm line. Later, depending on how Snoke spun the story, their timelines would be full of evidence, their photos showing the world everything the PR people wanted to be seen.

What it was like to really work with Kylo Ren.

Brunette (Kylo forgot her name), showcased her work ethic and dug out her phone to snapsome “realistic” selfies, the ones that would go into the BTS in the comments below the money making post.

All he could think of Rey.

Dark lashes wet with tears.

Soft lips parted in shock.

The glow, that pulse of sunshine from her being, the light that drew him... gone.

The manager who all but dragged her back into the suite murmured something into her walkie talkie.

“Mr. Ren, again, I’m so very sorry. We’ll get this cleaned this up right away, and I have one of our staff coming up with a first aid kit. Maybe... You should sit down?”

More touching, this time on his arm, like poison on his skin.

He allowed himself to be herded to the sofa, the cream leather cool under his jeans. Benzine—with all the intimacy of a lover, although so far he’d only had his tongue down her throat—tugged on his jeans to get him to lift up his feet.

That’s when tiny pinpricks of pain pierced the shocked bullshit.

Of all the ways he thought they’d meet again, of all the scenes he savored in his mind, scenes of her tearful apologies, her shriveled up life so pathetic compared to his...

This just now? Fucking Karma. Everything he wanted. Complete shit.

He got the tears he had hoped for. He got the shriveled up life—a server in a Skywalker owned hotel, because Karma was one ironic bitch.

He’d offered her everything. A she threw everything—and him— away.

And had the fucking gall to mouth lyrics.

“That stupid chick, I swear to god,” he heard the manager woman mutter as Bazine—now he remembered—ventured off to find some tissues, no doubt more concerned about the ruined shoot then his foot.

Then again, crimson fit his branding.

“We can make it work.” The light director fussed with stands and cords. “Bazine you can be on the couch arm, and if we move the coffee table—“

The radio squacked something he didn’t understand. “The hotel nurse is on her way. I’m so incredibly sorry. The cleaning staff will be here in five to treat the carpet and—”

“Who... was she?” His breath stuttered in his throat, as if she somehow mattered. The twitches in his thighs and legs and cut up feet had nothing to do with the need to find her.

“Who? Rey? Nobody. I assure you, she’s fired.“

Good. Good, she should be fucking fired. He didn’t need to risk seeing her again at thehotel. Of course Karma would fuck with him being back in Chandrilla.

How many times had he imagined things like this? Tears brightening those hazel eyes? Looking so lost and hollow as she bent her head, so obviously regretful. He got that, didn’t he? That light in her snuffed out, drowned by real life.

He would’ve given her everything.

Everything, echoed bitter in his mindas Bazine settled on the back of the couch to do a light check. Everything glamorous and fucking fake, including the caviar and champagne brands paying them a nice chunk for an Insta.

As the light designer checked the angles, Kylo watched the cleaning crew take care of the mess. A minute later and everything got back to being pristine, as if nothing had been there, as if the whole act hadn’t happened.

Fucking Rey didn’t even give him the satisfaction of watching her get on her knees,a little pregame entertainment to pump himself up for this shoot and the expected after three way party.

Why the hell didn’t she cuss him out? Why the fuck wasn’t he happy seeing the resigned look on that shocked beautiful face?

_Go after her, Kid._

No, he sure as fuck didn’t need that right now.

“You’re not firing her. Rey.” He hadn’t said that name, hadn’t allowed himself to taste the way she sounded on his lips in how many years. “It’s your responsibility to ensure adequate training.”

“I... Mr. Ren.”

And because he could, because he was a bastard, Kylo simply lifted up a hand to cut her off.

By the window, the photog snickered and snapped a few photos of the Amidala bridge as backdrop.

Everything for show. Everything for sponsorships and deals. And since he was a dried up fuck, sponsorships and deals kept him relevant.

He could’ve gone after her. It wasn’t too late, she had to be somewhere in the hotel. She wouldn’t be crying. The Rey he knew would clock him in the face.

Hell, maybe they could talk. Ex lovers could be friendly. Hey good to see you, it’s been so long. I blink and it’s eight years. Yeah, first time I’m back. And you?

Nice and fake, just like his bulshit life.

“Alright, I think we’re ready.”

Bazine and the other perched up on either side of him, asses up on the back of the sofa, tanned thighs against his arms, his burning skin. Sparkling shoes and heels dug into the leather sofa. Red and black, like his brand.

A second tray of caviar—he must’ve missed it having been brought in—was now artfully arranged n the coffee table that had been moved to hide the carpet and his feet

At least they all had been professionals, adjusting lights and poses and the shoot and not bitching too much about the change of plans and scenery.

Besides, there wasn’t much they couldn’t do in post, later.

At least he didn’t have to fucking smile.

He’d gotten rid of her. He’d lasered away her name, drank away her face, buried her taste in countless female bodies.

If he had been allowed snow, he’d have ODed. Darksider Vodkapaid well enough to be a good second choice and since that sponsorship became his most lucrative contract,he popped open a bottle and guzzledfrom the neck as Bazine and the other clinked their champagne flutes.

He made sure to angle the bottle so that the out-take shot “accidentally” captured the label. Perfect for BTS.

**_Then_ **

“This seat taken?”

Startled out of the early morning misery, Rey looked up—and up. Had she got more then four hours of sleep,she probably wouldn’t have muttered “Do you see a backpack?”

And since she wasn’t here for conversation and there were plenty of damned seats, she told herself she wasn’t really being a bitch when he twitched that admittedly beautiful mouth into a smile and settled that giant body a few seats to the left.

She didn’t give him another thought.

Not really.

Not even when she caught his side-eye.

Next class, he sat in her row again, exactly three seats to the left. And despite Music Theory being a prereq to all production and mixing classes, it was still eight-o-hell in the morning, without many bodies to use as a buffer.

Not that she looked at him. At all. She didn’t have time nor business to be looking.

Tall, built, surprisingly graceful, not that she spent much time covertly studying that large frame in his habitual dark tshirts and expensive jeans. He generally came in just before Skywalker started the lecture, and barely glanced at her after the initial “hey”.

She didn’t watch his hair slide over his eyes when he’d open his laptop. An Apple of course, the newest thinnest model, his fingers giant against pristine white keys.

Really, all of him was giant.And when he caught her side-eyeing him, he didn’t make a big deal, although she did catch a hint of a smirk.

A smirk that wasn’t at allhot.

She hated to admit he had a gorgeous mouth. Strong nose. Huge ears he covered by dark hair, the locks framing an interesting face. As if nature couldn’t quite decide on his features, and the result lookedboth unusual and striking. Beautiful.

But Rey didn’tlook too long.

She generally didn’t like tall men. She didn’t like anyone to tower over her. Just call it transference, an instinct of survival. And yet, this bloke didn’t trigger any alarms,despite that broad and sexy frame in tattered old-band tshirts, long legs jammed into the backrest of the row in front of him.

Always three seats away.

And if anyone did call her out for staring at fingers gently stroking the Apple, she was a fan of tech and that one was quite... hot. Good thing she had three jobs to keep her busy, and Finn gave up trying to get her laid.

For now, closest she got was staring at the fuckable redwood when he wasn’t looking.

The day she fell asleep during modes and keys,he cleared his throat loud enough to wake her, and since Rey was feeling grateful (Skywalker loved to skewer students), she caught him before running off to her next class.

“Hey.”

He turned and gave her that little fucking smile, the morning breeze blowing dark hair off his face. “Hey.”

“Thanks.”

He shrugged shoulders almost too wide for the lanky length of him. “Allergies. You know.”

Somehow, she didn’t mind him towering over her.

‘Ben,” he said, and before she realized what happened, her palm was engulfed in his much larger one, his fingers warm and lightly calloused.

“Rey.”

“Like Ray of Sunshine?”

“With an E.” She hadn’t taken back her hand, enjoying his thumb lightly caress her knuckles.

“Suits you,” he murmured, that voice velvety smooth, quiet, as if he was afraid of spooking her away. “You want to grab some coffee?”

“I have class.” She didn’t need to fake the regret in her voice.

“Tonight?”

Flattered at that hopeful tone, Rey smiled. And overshared despite herself. “Martial arts. Then work.”

“You any good?” Somehow this wasn’t said in a tone equivalent of patting her pretty little head, or telling her to punch him in the stomach.

“You can say that.”

Finn dragged her their freshman year, both of them proud brown belts by now. Of course, he did it to get laid. And Rey had never found anything else more cathartic.

“In....?”

“Tae Kwon Do.”

“I took it since I was five.”

Of course he did.She waited for the inevitable invitation. Sparring, or helping with technique.

“Got all the way to yellow belt. Turns out I’m a lover not a fighter.”

She couldn’t help but snort, even if everything inside her melted. “I’ll keep that in mind. See you next week?”

“Bright and early.” He didn’t seem put off by the rejection, nor by her obvious omission to suggest another day. There could be no other day.Classes outside her major weren’t paid by the scholarship, and between three jobs and studying, she barely had time for martial arts and sleeping.

She was fulfilled. Busy. Happy.

No time to think about things she didn’t have.

“Out of curiosity, if you didn’t have class or ass kicking tonight, what would you order? For your coffee.”

This had her full on grinning, and the way he looked at her, all sweet and pleased with himself, had something warm curling inside her belly.“Black, five sugars, extra cream.”

No comment about her liking things sweet.

Between classes and shifts and trying to make time for Finn so she wouldn’t be a complete shite as a roommate, Rey didn’t dwell on him too much. But when she came into Breha Hall the following Monday, first thing she saw was Ben holding two cups of coffee.

“Is this seat taken?”

“Don’t you see the backpack?” 

She barely had time to flush when that dolt let out a laugh.

“I’m just fucking with you, here.” Somehow he didn’t knock over the cups as he moved his things out of the way. When she sat down, he handed her the bigger one with “Rey of Sunshine” scrawled in black thick letters.

Their fingers brushed together. The little spark of shock nearly had her spilling coffee on her lap.

Skywalker cleared his throat up on the podium, and glared right at them. Ben simply glared right back, completely unabashed.

“You know the prof?” She risked out of the corner of her mouth.

“Well... Yeah.” He staredat the projected major blues scale laid out along the circle of fifth. “That’s uh... my uncle. My mother’s evil twin.”

She wondered at that tone, the flat out derision.

“They made you take your uncle’s class?”

“Yeah, if I want to graduate.”

Skywalker cleared his throat again, and Rey shut up and took a sip of coffee.

“Exactly how I like it. Thank you.”

She could’ve sworn the tips of those adorably large ears turned a shade of pink.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW// Back cracking due to injury  
> CW// Earn that Hate Sex tag
> 
> Huge thank you to SleepingKitten, DyanINBloom and Dorothy for their input.  
> And thank you to Red Rose for her AMAZING poetry that inspired me.

_**** _

_**Now** _

Rey didn’t spend the entire night and most of morning scrolling through his Insta. She didn’t zoom the photos to trace a fingertip over his scar, and she most definitely didn’t cry about the tattoo.

_FUCK Sunshine._

And after a hot bath, a bit of wine, and countless hours of finally letting herself look, allowing herself to see his face, to acknowledge this worked out exactly as she wanted, she had come to a decision.

_**Closure.** _

The word became her mantra through the day, an affirmation every time a more rational voice told her not go through with what she planned.

_**Closure.** _

After eight years, it was time.

Tasting the word over and over, Rey pushed a serving cart into the elevator and woudln’t look at the damning reflection staring back. What was there to see? A washed out ex coming in to ... what? Tell him congratulations?

_**Closure.** _

They called him the Dark Prince of Death Metal. Seeing the videos of him at sold out concerts, crowds enraptured by beautiful twin vines of rage and pain, she knew she had done the right thing.

He got the life he wanted.

And here she was, a washed out woman who never finished college, whose life consisted of a great savings and three jobs, good friends and empty nights. And bags under her eyes big enough to fit his Luis Vuitton luggage.

That ad had been the only photo Rey allowed herself to save.

She needed this. She would apologize again, for real this time. And despite the rational voice inside her telling her he wasn’t the same man, she wondered if that scene last night meant he still harbored... something.

_**Closure.** _

She’d been pondering getting out of town, starting fresh. An end of her self punishment. Seeing him last night had been a sign.

Since the service elevator took it’s time chugging to the top floor, she had to confront the Rey staring back from the small mirror. Tired, always tired. Then again, anyone would be tired running away from life, as Finn would often say.

She wasn’t running. The opposite in fact, she was simply... at a stand still. Waiting. Wasn’t that her life story, waiting for those who never came back?

She’d dabbed on makeup to hide the sleepless night, and if she took three ibuprophens because the stress exasperated her back as always, nobody had to know.

The grey of her server uniform didn’t exactly go with pallor, but even if she added color—a scarf, earrings, anything to remind herself of who she was—what would be the point?

The cart rolled smoothly from the elevator—no squeaky wheels on the most expensive floors.

The door to his suite loomed closer.

She could still turn away, endure the raised eyebrows of the waitstaff if anyone saw her unloading boxes of his things she’d hidden under the pristine tablecloth. Then again, could she endure eight more years a coward?

She’d get her closure. And maybe give him his.

Finally at his door, Rey squared her shoulders and ran a shaking hand over her bun. Maybe he would refuse to see her. After yesterday’s display, she had no doubt he woudln’t want to reminisce about old times.

Or maybe he would yell at her again in that cold furious voice her stupid body yearned for after all these years.

She stretched her arms out and up and twisted, the cracks like pistons in her ears. Better get that out of the way.

And then, without any more excuses, she finally knocked, polite and firm, on Kylo Ren’s hotel room. And tried to keep that same polite and firm expression when the blonde model from last night—this time slicked in white jeans that looked painted on—opened the door.

One bottle of wine on the cart. One glass. How in blight hadn’t she considered he’d have company?

Of course he would have company. Of course, it would be a gorgeous, beautiful woman.

“Room service.” There, her voice wasn’t shaky. Professional and crisp, with a polite half smile on her face.

“You again? How do you still have a job?” That ruby mouth in the same shade as her tube top stretched into a grimace, the expertly made up eyes going narrow, ugly, flat, as they considered her.

“Where would you like me to set up?”

She would maintain herself. She wouldn’t freaking cry from disappointment, from the ruined expectation that she would have a chance to see him one last bloody time.

“Right there”. The woman pointed a red fingernail toward the window where Amidala Bridge shimmered against the darkening sky. “If you can manage to get it there in once piece.”

Somebody—had she bothered to tell Rose or Finn or Poe about her plan—would’ve warned her this could again. Then again, she didn’t tell them because all three would’ve called her insane.

No other choice but to roll the cart over that pristine white carpet—as if last night never has happened, as if it were a giant cosmic joke. Past the pale chrome of tables and off white leather couches, past the countless vodka bottles scattering sharp pinpricks of light from the chandelier above.

_**Let the past die.** _

Nothing like your own words spiraling from your brain.

“What the hell did you say?”

“Nothing, m’am.” And since nothing was left other then crying about this idiocy later, Rey uncorked the bottle.

She wasn’t here.

This wasn’t real.

She floated somewhere thick and couldn’t see the sun.

“Hey. HEY!” The snapping right under her nose jerked her into the present. “What the fuck is this?”

This being the smallest box that fell down from underneath the table cloth. A cheap plastic storage box of notebooks and napkin scraps, not technically his, although the words on them belonged to the First Order.

Red fingernails pried open the lid to streak like blood over the crumpled pages.

“Here we go, another hopeful. You want to sing some songs? Get a damned agent. You think you’re that special that Kylo will take time to look at all this shit?”

A flick of a diamond encircled wrist sent the box flying, the lid coming apart and sending papers to the floor. Her life _before_ in tatters. And even as fury boiled over, a part of Rey, the part that had grown cold, whispered how this was so appropriate. Closure. Poetic even.

Had she been there, in the present, this would’ve been painful.

Luckily, Rey floated far away.

“How many stupid bitches—“

“Baz.” He hadn’t raised his voice. Gods help her, he probably could’ve whispered and still shocked her. “Close your fucking mouth.”

He seemed larger then yesterday. Against the pale on pale decor, he all but breathed dark menace, that huge frame an apparition of the dark. Black jeans, black shoes, black ink sharp and jagged on those thick crossed arms. Black tshirt stretching over that massive chest hid the tattoo she couldn’t bear seeing.

Script—poetry, not hers—alternated with thorns and vines and wires on his skin. Fire. Black stylized fireclimbed over his massive arms up to his shoulders to lick his throat under his collar. Against the shock of ink black hair, that pale beautiful face appeared ice cold.

He had always been tall, but with the added bulk, he looked exactly the part he and Snoke created.

Kylo Ren.

Rage with the face of a fallen angel. And gods help her, for the first time in years, Rey felt herself get damp.

“We need to call downstairs. I can’t believe this bitch is here again.”

“Get out.” His dark cold eyes locked onto Rey, and pinned by that gaze, she knew he hadn’t meant her. No this time.

So Rey stared back, allowing herself that long moment of pleasurable pain of seeing him again.

After several moments of humming tension, Bazine let out an exasperated sigh. “Is she an idiot? God, stupid stans-”

“I mean you, Baz. Get the fuck out.”

Trapped.

If he saw her mouth the word, he didn’t react.

“Kylo...” Indulgent, placatingtones, that name so strange and yet so fitting.

“Did I fucking stutter? Or do you need a hearing aid sponsed to get your ears checked?”

“Jesus, you’re a shit.” Placating tone was now replaced by venom. “Your watch sponsor can screw himself. Like I can even pretend to get caught humping your limp dick at the party.”

Rey felt her eyes go wide as saucers. He didn’t stop looking at her even as he spoke. “Got paid enough to do that last time.”

“You’re such a goddamned ass.” With long legged strides, Bazine crossed to the door, clutching a tiny purse that must’ve cost a fortune. “No money’s worth putting up with your shit. You gonna fuck the little maid now?”

“Actually,” Rey coudln’t fathom what the hell made her open her mouth, “The maids clean up. I’m the waitstaff.”

“You’re fucking nothing! Another groupie cunt he’ll discard. And you,” she pointed a bloodred fingertip. “When you beg to come back—”

He simply angled his head, expression hidden, and yet it was enough for Bazine to run out the door. Which left Rey alone with him for the first time in eight years.

She had rehearsed this. Rolled her tongue over the words, and tried to think of his perspective when she’d said them. And now, with him looking down at her, disdain in those dark eyes, nothing she could say would matter anymore.

_**Trapped.** _

He tilted his head slightly, but didn’t break the silence.

Under that ice cold gaze, she knelt and somehow cracked her back again, that pop crushing the words to dust.

She could do nothing but pick up the tattered sheets of paper.Had she become a songwriter, she would’ve loved the visual metaphor of her past at his feet.

“Bazine’s a bitch.” That low gravel filled voice came from above her, the timbre curling right between her legs. ”Why are you here, Rey?”

The way he said her name... So nonchalant, so cold. Surprised even. As if she really meant nothing. Then again, he probably slept just fine last night, not dwelling on the memories of her.

“I... came to give you back your things.”

She prayed her her voice came out calm. Nonchalant, even. As if she didn’t kneel like a bloody servant picking up her own words scattered on the floor.

“You don’t have anything I’d want.”

Isn’t that nice, a double meaning. Had she still wrote, she would have used that line in one of the Knights’ songs.

The heat spiraling through her limbs gave Rey the energy to shove the papers back into the box and get up slowly, deliberately, to her full height and square her shoulders.

Her back cracked once again, the sound a gunshot in that humming silence.

“There she is,” he murmured, that voice both sweet and painful. “I almost bought last night’s performance. But here’s the real Rey.”

She’s waited for this for eight years.

“Ben-“

“That’s not my fucking name.”

_**Your first, first name.** _

“Maybe,” he spat. “That’s in the fucking past. Your Ben—,“ such disgust there, “—ain’t here.”

“I can see that.“ She had to be here, in the present. One breath, then two, and she dared to look back into those storm filled eyes.

“What’s my name?”

She’d seen him angry. Not often, not at first, rarely at her until those last two months. As the Knights took off, he’d lost his temper so much more, his voice a whip, his large menacing frame a weapon of intimidation.

Rey always thought getting off on that had been a little sick.

Now, starting at that clenched jaw, the flaring nostrils, her body readied in the same way as before, slick heat pooling between her thighs, her abdomen clenching in anticipation.

Pavlovian response to stimuli.

**_Trapped._ **

“What’s my name.” Low, dangerous words had shivers dancing on her skin.

Here. In the present.

“Look, I...“ She reached out blindly. Which proved to be a huge a mistake.

_**Trapped.** _

“You’re the one that came.”Against the wall, her dragged her arms above her head, one giant hand enough to close over both wrists, his body hard and hot and, fuck, so rough and ready, not between her thighs, not where she needed him, but inches, inches away.

“Get your hands off me.” She should’ve screamed. Instead, she whispered. Licked her lips.

She hadn’t come here for this. And yet, despite the muted common sense, she wrapped her leg around his hip and whimpered when he ground against her.

_**Trapped.** _

_**Yes.** _

“Fuck. You,” he grit into her ear and tried to back away. Except desperate, mindless, empty, Rey lunged for him, somehow finding the strength to yank him down and slam her mouth on his.

Vicious, angry, the kiss became a battle, lips and teeth. Then he pushed her away, hands in a vise grip on her shoulders, fingers digging into her skin.

If there was a time to laugh at the absurdity of her much smaller frame pinning him against the wall, nobody thought it was remotely funny.

“This,” ragged pained voice, “This is what you want?”

She met his gaze and saw heat under fury. “Yes.”

**_Trapped._ **

**_Closure._ **

Lyrics spun in her brain just as his lips closed over hers, not at all gentle. Same glorious Ben, ripe with arousal and fury, and that alone nearly sent her to the brink. Then she opened her eyes and shivered under that dark glare.

“Bend over the couch. Show me your ass. Don’t fucking touch me.”

The old Rey would’ve slapped him. The old Rey would have slugged an uppercut into his jaw and got the hell out of that room. And would be grateful, grateful he was no longer Ben, this asshole not deserving—hell, not needing—apologies or explanations. No needing anything from her.

And yet, she draped herself over the back of the couch, beige leather cool on her flaming skin, her drab uniform trousers pooling at her ankles.

Waiting.

Gasping to catch her breath in the cruel silence.

**_Trapped in your hate which I so love._ **

**_Trapped by pleasure of your pain._ **

When he didn’t move, Rey had a fleeting thought it was trick, a final humiliation. Look at your desperate hungry ex with her ass in the air. A groupie, like the others. Nothing.

But there it was, the tell tale rip of paper, and finally, she felt a brush of skin, a quick check of her readines then...

Long, so fucking hard, ramming into her with no preamble, just a single rough single thrust, and as much as it burned, as she felt something inside her pop, rip, she fluttered around the sudden thick, glorious intrusion, squeezing him, drawing him deeper, crying, screaming.

The first orgasm stripped her raw and left her breathless. She didn’t realize he spoke until a giant—shaking?—hand unwound her hair and and forced her neck to arch.

“Who is fucking you?”

She bent back further, buttocks high, calves burning as she tried to stand up on her tiptoes, giving him better access, giving him everything, so close again, taking his fury in her body. The rough staccato thrusts all but threw her off the edge again, the filthy wet sounds each time he slammed into her burning her higher. Sensations spiraled through her, combined pleasure and edge of pain.

She fluttered around him once again, drew in abreath to moan, except he... stopped. Slowed to an unbearable, excruciating slide of his cock within her post-orgasm-sensitive walls, the kind of power move that always led to tears. Back then, she loved his power moves.

“Who. Is. Fucking. This pussy?”

She knew exactly what he wanted. And she refused to give him that.

“Please—“

He wanted tears? She shed plenty. And he wasn’t the only one with power moves.

Rey tightened all around him, moving back onto his cock, slamming herself against that rock hard body. A giant hand added scalding pressure right above her shoulder blades, a show of dominance not only from his weight, but from the gathering warnings she refused to hear.

“Say my name. Fucking say it.”

The warnings didn’t stand a chance. Rey whimpered, slammed herself against him, wordpressllesly milked his cock to make him be the first to break. And since he knew just how to break her too, the hand at her back slid below her loosened hair to encircle her throat.

“Say it, baby. Who’s fucking this cunt?”

“Please,” she whimpered, and tightened around him again,“don’t stop.”

That dark cruel laugh just edged her higher. “Not gonna let you come until you say it. Gonna fuck this pretty pussy slow until you scream my fucking name.”

Lost. Trapped. Delirious and fully in the present.

Rey arched her neck again despite pinpricks of pain.

“Fuck, I can feel you, baby, you’re close.” That silken damning voice had her spiraling tighter. “Say my damned name. Say it and I’ll give it to you. I know you, baby. I can feel you. Say my.... fucking. Name”

And because she was lost, already shuddering around him, she screamed out “Ben” and sucked a hissing breath in dread, waited for him to curse her, hate her, to pull out. Except he didn’t stop, didn’t remove his hand around her throat, fucking her hard and fast while she screamed again, shuddering, spiraling into pleasure as he pounded into her in this exquisite fusion of bliss and pain.

“Fuck baby...” And that voice, soft, sweet, Ben, slid over her as he shuddered inside her, spilled and then....

Pulled out.

Stepped back.

Trapped.

The sudden chills played tragic beats over her shaking limbs.

She wasn’t here.

Something cracked.

Too many words lumped in her throat, Rey managed to unfurl her torso from the couch, the snap crackle and pop nothing compared to the cold blast of disgust coming from behind her.

“Fuck my life,” he ground through clenched teeth.

Slow, as much as her suddenly freezing limbs would let her,she swiveled back to look at him. The man who now was Kylo Ren, the celeb who had just fucked another groupie, peeledhis lips back and started to pull off the used up condom.

She shoved her trousers back on and fled to the sound of someone retching.

Then

He never listened to his own music. What was the point of hearing your own mistakes, the ways the words made zero sense once you got past the emo bullshit?

Instead, Ben shredded his body to Vader, and though not many knew the connection between his fucking family and one of the greatest rock stars of all time,the music choice made sense. Anything better then replaying today’s conversation.

_“I’m not authorizing anything and you still haven’t gotten your degree. You don’t have time nor skills to start recording.”_

His family owned most of the real estate in Chandrilla and several chains throughout the western states. And here he was, the last Skywalker, long past adulthood, begging his uncle for a pinch out of his own inheritance to front his first LP.

With his grandfather growling about power in his earbuds, Ben pushed his muscles to the limit, the burn and pain fueling his anger past the idiotic hurt.

His mother’s noninvolvement. Han’s latest “see you Kid.” And Luke, with that barely disguised fear under the guise of “caring”, the same caring that tied up access to his trust fund until he was a fucking thirty one year old man. _“I hope by that time you’ll become a man.”_ By that time, they no doubt hoped he’d let them browbeat him into politics.

Then again, his mother’s lessons between polls and appearances hadn’t gone to waste. _“If you can’t get through, then go around.”_

He couldn’t wait to throw the personal encouragement from Snoke—another protege of Vader’s mentor—in Luke’s face.

With his arms at the point of giving out, Ben switched to legs, loading on too much weight, his grandfather snarling in his head. And he did his own snarling when someone repeatedly, irritatingly, tapped on the bar behind him.

Everyone knew to stay the fuck away from him when he was working out. Everyone knew to wait till he was fucking done.

Except...

“Rey?”

Anger—at Luke, his parents, his own damned self for being such an emo fucker—ebbed away. Who could stay pissed in the presence of Sunshine?

“What are you doing here?”

Her lithe frame wrapped in something yellow and fresh, and fuck him, he loved daisies now, she glanced up at the clock. “Waiting to lock up.”

That bright accent wrapped around his cock... except she sounded different.

Weary somehow. Then her words penetrated and his Rolex confirmed—several minutes after midnight.

“Sorry. Got caught up.”

She nodded, and though Ben could tell she was eager to get the fuck out of there—he had no idea she worked at the gym—those soft lips quirked in a small smile.“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” Nobody wanted to hear his rich kid no-one-loves-me sob story. But because it was her, and he really didn’t want to be an ass, he added“Thanks, though.”

Since staring would put him right into the creep zone, he sprayed cleaning solution on a rag and wiped the bar, then the weights after reracking them. Another tiny quirk of those pink lips acknowledged his effort and made him feel somewhat less of a shit.

“Thanks.” She barely spared him a glance, but he did catch the subtle side-eye. Maybe he wasn’t in the friend zone after all.

“Where’s everyone? And yeah, that makes me sound like a creep. Good thing you’ll kick my ass if needed.”

The snort of her laught warmed his heart.

“It’s my turn to lock up.” She gave him a quick glance—and was he wrong or was there a glitter of appreciated there? That’s when he realized she probably watched him while he worked out, and the idea... didn’t suck.

He liked being watched—as long as he was putting on a show. Being caught unawares was another weakness, somebody always judging, criticizing, because you always did something wrong.

Yet the thought of her looking at him did things. Things he had no business feelings because they were alone in the university gym, and aside from not being a creep, he really liked this hesitant friendship, as if he was somebody fucking special she was slowly allowing in.

“Where’s your car?” Ben slung his bag over his shoulder and watched her lock up the side door. Somehow, he followed her through closing up the place. Like a lost puppy.

“Oh...”She shrugged. “I walk. My place is just down the street.” She nodded in the direction of student housing.

“It’s midnight.”

That laugh warmed its way past his gut and curled much lower. “Wow, thanks, I can’t tell time.”

“May I... Would you let me walk you home? I know—” he lifted up his palms in mock defense. “You’re the scariest thing out there. It’s really just a ploy so I can hide behind you from the zombies.”

She laughed longer this time, the tinkling sound fucking gorgeous.

“Then I’ll have to walk you to your car, and we’d go round in circles.”

“It’s a dilemma.” He rubbed a fingertip over his lips and was delighted that her eyes, shimmering in the lamplight, seemed to follow the movement.

In the spring night, her lips looked petal soft.

“How about I give you a ride? You’ll save me from the zombies AND spare my manly pride.”

He saw the calculation, the uncertainty. Good thing he knew exactly how to close a deal. “You got a roommate right? Text them my contact.” With an added bonus that she could get his number and he hers. “Honestly, the worst I’d do is drive around and burden you with all my problems.”

The light in those eyes dimmed, her mouth flattening into a line that wasn’t a frown, not exactly. The night chill finally penetrated his overheated muscles, cutting straight to his bones. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. Well... I hate that word. Burden.” She sighed, then shook her head. “My uncle used to say it all the time... ” Her voice trailed off, and fuck, she put that tiny hand onto his sweaty forearm and nearly seared his skin. “You’re _not_ a burden, Ben.”

Radiant. She was radiant, burning bright with a small spec of darkness. If she had been anyone else, he would’ve pushed, he would’ve explored that seed until he teased the darkness to the surface.Because he was an ass like that.

“If it helps, I also have a shitty uncle.”

That little smile graced her mouth again.

“Come on, let me give you a ride home. We can trade family secrets.” He wiggled his eyebrows just to see her laugh. “I can tell you about that one time my uncle got high and tried to kill me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know... I know... But he will get the slapping he deserves, I promise
> 
> Thank you for the amazing comments and encouragement!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: minor gyno tearing and mention of blood. Back injury recovery.
> 
> Huge thank you to AuroraReylo and DrRoslyn for their feedback and major thank you to SleepingKitten, Dorothy and DyadInBloom for their incredible input.

_**** _

_**Now** _

Ben heaved over the toilet like a damned pussy, all because of a few droplets of blood. His hands shook when he finally stood up, and though he couldn’t look at his fucking mug in the giant lit up mirror, he splashed cool water in his face and dug a fingernail into his scar.

Pain was good. Pain controlled emotion.

By the time he trusted himself to come out of the bathroom, Rey, of course, was gone.

For a moment, he entertainined the notion of running after her—and woudln’t that be a fun video to capture. Kylo Fucking Ren, Dark Prince Of Death Metal chasing after a chick.

Although fuck him, if she hadn’t wanted it, she shouldn’t have shown up.

She shoulldnt have come, he told himself, and smashed a lamp to pieces. She shouldn’t have come and stirred all this shit up. He kicked the table, breaking all four of the curvy legs and thought about the blood on the condom.

Fuck it.

She came, didn’t she? Didn’t she? Or did he—

He nearly threw up again, and instead threw the fucking wine bottle on the plush carpet. No shards of glass this time, no spills, no mess.

He contemplated stomping on the bottle, bloodying his feet again.

He had been fine all fucking day, recording garbage. He’d told himself he would be fine and wouldn’t think of her, wouldn’t dare hope of running into her in the hotel lobby. Wouldn’t fucking think of getting on his knees and begging her to come back in his life.

Woudln’t that visual go fucking viral.

She shouldn’t have come and looked at him with those big hazel eyes, so sorry, then so hot. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? To fuck a damned celeb?

He gave her that. He gave her that, didn’t he? Used her up, treated her just like the others, just another anonymous cunt.

He thought he would be sick again, and ran over to the trash, hands trembling as he braced himself over the ruined table.

No, not again.

He wouldn’t let her do this.

Limbs shaking, Kylo kicked another lamp, the nauseanearly sending him back to the toiletwhere he flung the god damned condom.

Had he flushed it? Did he imagined crimson drops of blood? Was he a fucking monster?

He was. He was a monster. Still, he remembered enough to know she hadn’t fucking faked it. He remembered enough to know exactly what the blood had meant.

He simply didn’t know the why.

Fuck all this bullshit, he needed to find her, ensure she was all right.Because he was a monster and a dick and and didn’t even check if she was ready. All he had wanted was to bury everything, bury the past,bury himself in that slick delicious heat.

 _DarkSider Vodka_ gleamed at him with empty promises. Again, he bounded for the door then stopped and forced his racing idiot brain to start fucking thinking.

The hotel phone.

Nausea still roiling his gut, he gripped the old fashioned receiver. Was it just yesterday, he had done this same damned thing?

He was fucking Kylo Ren, he didn’t need to call around to find some fucking maid. Server, he mentally corrected and wiped at the moisture on his cheek that had to be left over from the water.

“Yeah, I need Kathleen. No I don’t know her fucking last name.”

He paced, and breathed, and went over what happened. Rey’s scent still lingered on his skin, peaches and honey, and fuck, he needed to get it off him, but with every second wasted, she was hurting, hurting because of him and—

Mindless, he saw the plastic box shoved full of papers. She said she came to give him this?

With muzac—the hotel couldn’t splurge on decent fucking jazz?—he smoothed out a crumpled handwritten sheet.

_**Pain.** _

The word —the handwritten raw anguish—welled up in his brain, the rhythm simple. Stunning. Elegant in raw simplicity.

_**Why didn’t you take my hand.** _

Her handwriting, black ink on fading paper—envelopes or bills, whatever had been close at hand.

_**Pain.** _

Splotches of ink blurred some of the words out.

Specs of blood on the condom because he hurt her. Fuck him, he wanted to hurt her, but with his words, not like this, never like this. She came, didn’t she? Or did she pretend just to get him to finish and fucking get off her so she could get away from him, because he was a fucking soulless monster?

Was she still in the hotel somewhere? Fuck him, maybe she was having a panic attack?

_**Why can’t I make you understand.** _

He smoothed a fingertip over the words, his mind already making up the rhythm.

She definitely came, he felt her tighten around his fucking cock just like she used to. The memory hardened him again despite the self-disgust.

“I’m sorry, sir, looks like Kathleen left for the evening. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“One of your servers,” the label sounded so wrong,”... Rey. Can you have her come back please?” Look at him, so damned polite.

“Is there a problem , sir?”

_**Pain.** _

“She left her...” Fuck, what? “Glasses here.”

“I see.” Relief, since they didn’t another incident after last night.

_**How longam I gonna pretend?** _

He didn’t know what the fuck to feel. Yesterday, he’d been determined to put the past behind him, to call this yet another Karmic fuck up.

He certain hadn’t planned looking her up. If anything, he hoped she had left town. He sure as hell hadn’t expected her to come back and kiss him like she fucking needed him, and him terrified to admit he sure as fuck still wanted her, despite her stomping on his fucking heart.

He needed to ensure she was all right. Then he’d get back to his own guided cage and let her fucking live her life just like she chose to.

_**Never think you’re nothing... to me.** _

Was this song new? Was this something she’d written all those years ago and brought here as some sort of an atonement?

“Sir, I’ll have a runner sent up. Sir?”

Shit, he forgot that he still clutched the fucking phone. “I may have inadvertently caused her trouble last night. I wanted to give her a tip and an autographed Tshirt.” Because an autographed T-shirt signed by fucking Kylo Ren solved everything.

“I... see, sir.” Then, “I’m sorry, Ms Johnson isnt available. You’re welcome to leave an envelope for her and —“

“ I prefer to give it to her myself.” Look at him being so polite after he fucked his ex and trashed a damned hotel room.

“I understand, of course, sir. You are welcome to leave anything you’d like in an elevolpe for Ms Johnson at the concierge. I’m afraid she’s not available right now.”

“What the hell does that mean? Is she alright?” Tomorrow, Buzzfeed will be trending about Kylo Ren losing his shit and trashing his hotel room.

“I’m afraid I’m not in a position to say. I would be happy to—“

Kylo hung up—and by hanging up, did that satisfying thing where you slam the end call button and force the phone back in it’s base. Then he did what he should’ve done and texted Mitaka.

Ben Solo wouldn’t have had to. He could’ve dredged up his old name and used the privilege of ownership to get exactly what he wanted.

Because Ben Solo, in addition to being a weak willed spoiled kid had no qualms being a creep.

And yet, it was Ben’s name she screamed when she came on his cock.

Her scent still clung to him, so sweet, so clean. Because his night wasn’t bad enough, ghost sounds of her moans, of her wet heat haunted his ears.

He paced, and for the lack of anything to do, looked through the scraps of paper, the lines familiar now, scabs tearing from wounds he told himself he had forgotten.

_**I can take whatever I want (if you let me)** _

Their first collaboration, fuck his life.

_**Why are the stars connecting us?** _

Snoke sneered at that, and fuck him, did he even fight it? Because the words seemed good if so what emo,better then any shit the stable of First Order writers have been slinging at him to try.

And after several more papers, he found the one he had been looking for.

**_Let the past die. (Kill it if you have to.)_ **

They changed some of the words and this had been his path to fame in Europe, fresh and young and full of shit.

 _DarkSider_ called him with it’s siren song, but not tonight, not when he’d hop onto a bike as soon as Mitaka had procured one along with an address.

With his phone turned up on the loudest setting, he allowed himself a quick cold scrub with something sterile and expensive. Anything to get rid of that amazing gut wrenching scent of her.

When a notification sound beeped,he all but leapt out of the stall.

**< Hux: Why is Bazine climbing my cock? >**

**< Ren: She’s welcome to it.>**

**< Hux: You ditch this party, supreme asshole gonna shit>**

**< Ren: Got shit to do. >**

**< Hux: Wtf she prattling about a groupie? UR missing a sponsor for fuck? >**

**< Hux:....>**

**< Hux: About fucking time, man>**

**< Ren: New song.>**

**< Hux: Is that what you’re calling it?>**

**< Hux: ... UT?>**

**< Hux: Get some for me cause I ain’t touching batshit crazy>**

Fuck.

_Fuck._

He paced.

He kicked over the cart and watched more boxes—cardboard this time—spilling out. A part of him was terrified to see what they contained.

By ten, he had the info that he needed.

By ten thirty,the rental company delivered a Harley to the front of the hotel.

*****

The nightmare rarely started the same. Sometimes, she was thrown back into the past, pacing and crying in their apartment. Sometimes she was running from him, both of them knee deep in the snow, his rage flaying her back with crimson fire.

Sometimes she ran after him, screaming that she was sorry, begging him not to get into the car. It wasn’t him that got into the car, but that didn’t matter to the nightmare.

_Don’t go, please, not like this._

_This time, it wasn’t her that slammed the door and gunned the gas, peeling away without looking backwards._

_The crowd closed in around her, and she fought them, fought to push past the restraining limbs, to run after him, move faster._

_This time, she watched him from above, those beautiful hands wrenching the steering wheel. Headlights pierced the dark and her sedan flew above the road, careening through the air. She shrieked and watched the glass ruin hisface, his body twisted in an awkward angle._

_The stab of agony between her shoulder blades stole her remaining breath._

_“Ben. I’m so sorry.”_

_“Who’s fucking this pussy?”_

_Everything changed, and though Rey knew it was dream, she couldn’t protect herself._

_In the dream, she was real. Present._

_Or maybe she didn’t want to, because even if it was a dream, even if he bled from that scar on his cheek, he still touched her, the hand pressing over her upper back gifting her with pain, the fullness inside her filling her with pleasure._

_“Who is fucking this cunt?”_

_“Ben, please,“_

_“Ben is dead.” He slammed into her, and bliss warred with the agony. “Who is fucking you? My name, Rey, say my name.”_

“Kylo Fucking Ren.”

Rey wasn’t sure if the words jolted her awake or if her mind finally broke free from the nightmare. Reality slammed into her with the precision of a blade. Under her cheek, the sheetdraping the massage table Rose had brought over had been soaked with tears.

And somewhere in her apartment, Rose hissed “Get the hell out.”

“I need to see if she’s all right. Then I’ll fucking disappear.” That voice. It washed over her, the sweetest type of pain, the gravel timbre both familiar and foreign.

“New trend on twitter: celebs who stalk their ex. You think I’d let you near her right now?”

Her back an agony of screams, Rey pushed herself into sitting upright. Naked—of course she was buck naked under the sheet Rose had spread over her, why wouldn’t Karma fuck with her today?—she reached a shaking hand to where she’d draped her robe.

At least she could hold back a groan of pain as she pushed shaking arms into the sleeves, the snaps and cracks of her stiff limbs obscuring other sounds.

And as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw Rose raise a fist. Knowing her friend, she had her key tips poking out from between her knuckles.

“One step and I swear to god, I’ll make your your face match.“

“Rose,” she croaked and gripped the table as her feet hit the thin carpet. And even as her knees, the only part of her unscathed, kept her from face-planting, her upper back didn’t seem to get the memo.

“Rey?”

Gods, she forgot how fast he could move. He managed to sidestep a furious Rose to run to her and skid right to his knees, arms outstretched to catch her.

That look. That move. The flurry of emotion on his face.

That was all Ben, and she didn’t break both their hearts, she didn’t do all this for everythingto just unravel.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed with venom she didn’t even realize she felt, and from the way he jerked and got back up, she might as well have slapped him.

“What the fuck happened?”Did her apartment shrink in size with him inside?“I’m taking you to the ER.”

“I’m fine.”

“She’s fine. That’s why I had to drag my table here.” Rose looked as if she were about to spit. Or carve him up. “You saw her, now get out.“

“You’re clearly not fine.”

She had to remain in control and yet she hadn’t shored up her defenses. She couldn’t even float, because with him around, she was present.

Painful. Sharp. Raw.

Present.

Her old friend agony slid through her veins as Rey forced herself to straighten up, the cracking in her back having replaced all sounds, all beats, all rhythms.

He watched her a few steps away, arms crossed over that massive chest, a leather clad stranger with a face she loved once.

“What the fuck happened to you Rey?”

A part of her, the part screaming under the cracking of her back, roared he was eight years too late to ask that question.

“I hurt you. I’m sorry. Do you need to—“

“I said I’m fine.”

Those dark eyes narrowed, looking at her as if she were old gum under his shoe. “The Rey I knew would’ve already kicked my ass.”

“Want her to kick your ass?” And Rose picked up the cane against the wall, filling Rey’s heart with dread as much as fury.

“Rose. No.”

“I swear—“

“Rose. Put that down.” And her best friend must’ve heard the terror in her voice and set the cane out of the way.

Thankfully Kylo didn’t turn around, that intense gaze locked on her frame.

“I’m fine. He’s leaving. Aren’t you.” At least here, in the present, she could ensure her voice stayed icy calm.

“As soon I’m sure you’re okay.” And from the looks of him, he settled in and wouldn’t be budging.

And damnit, Rose’s fierce eyes softened. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Anyone want rat poison tea?” This was accompanied with the sweetest of smiles.

“Why are you here?” Not the best line, but she had a long night.

“You bled. Did I—“

“I’m a virgin. Born again.”

“Rey—”

“It’s a thing. They stitch you up as if—“

“Rey, fuck this.“

She didn’t feel like being funny anyway.

“It’s been a while.” Rey shrugged as if five years, and the three before weren’t that big of a thing.

She really needed to sit down. Somehow she must’ve winced because those big beautiful hands came up around her waist and Rey pulled back, the sudden movement robbing her of breath.

Before he could do anything else—like wrap his arms around her—Rey staggered back against the table. “I said don’t touch me.” That would’ve come out much better if she hadn’t gasped with pain.

The cracks in her back? Gunshots.

Her cane mocked her across the room, out of the way.

“You were just begging me to touch you.” Dark tone, dark eyes. Dark leather covering his skin.

“Am I begging you now?”

A bitter chuckle. “Why the fuck did you come back?”

And wasn’t that a valid question. “Maybe I wanted to shag a celeb.”

He flinched, as as if she’d slapped him.

“What the hell happened to your back?”

Pride made her do it. Pride and the stupid need to show him, even if he didn’t know things to the full extent, that she wasn’t a burden. At least to anybody but herself.

Those cold eyes tracked her slow uncertain movements to the couch.

“How do you know where I live?”

“A shrug that was so Ben. “I called around. Your place is...”

_Shitty._

He didn’t say those words, but he didn’t have to. Grey and beige, basic furniture. No style. The only splash of color was a photo Rose had printed out and framed of the four of them at Poe and Finn’s wedding.

No plants.

No artwork.

In the kitchen, Rose banged dishes together, no doubt accidentally, to let them know she wasn’t eavesdropping at all.

“I’m not fucking leaving unless you tell me what the fuck is wrong.”

“You fucked my brains out. Happy?”

“Sure. Get down on your knees and thank me.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah. You fucking love it.” And though it was her turn to flinch, he exhaled, long and loud, and ran a hand over his hair, the leather of his jacket bunching around that massive frame. The piercing in his eyebrow opposite his scar winked at her from afar.

“Just fucking answer me and I’ll get the fuck out.”

Arms crossed still over his chest, he looked the part of a dark menacing angel. She wouldn’t think about how safe he made her feel, how small, how precious, cradled against that giant body, how much she loved melting against him when he held her as they slept.

“I was in a car accident.” Half truths were better then full lies. “Hurt my back. It’s fine now. Nothing to worry about.”

“You call this,” he waved a hand at her, his fingers long and elegant and graceful, “nothing to worry about?”

“I wasn’t expecting a damned tank on top of me.”

“You should’ve told me that it hurt!”

Something crashed in the kitchen. “Sorry,” Rose sang out, in a voice that was anything but.

“You need to leave.”

“Rey-“

“I don’t want you here.”

 _Dontgodontodongo_.

But she wasn’t that person anymore.

 **_I hate that you are leaving.   
_ ** **_You hate it when you stay._ **

“What did you say?”

She shook her head and her neck cracked this time, dissolving the beats into nothing. Always nothing. Just dust floating away before she could capture the words.

Rose chose that moment to show up. “Well look, it’s after midnight. So nice to see you, too bad you can’t stay. No need to stop for autographs onyour way out.”

Rey floated with no sun. Nothing has changed.

Because some sort of answer was expected, she managed to nod her head under the water at his surprisingly quiet “See you, Rey.”

Closure.

That was exactly what she came for.

 _Dontgodontodongo_.

She clamped her mouth shut and breathed slow through her nose.The door closed with a quiet click, leaving her once again in silence. After everything, after eight years,he once again had been the one to leave.

Too tired to move, Rey let herself float amidst the pulses of the STEM Rose reattached in silence. The gentle waves of electricity brought warmth to aching muscles, leaving the void inside her soul completely bereft of distraction nor relief. Just like before, she let herself detach, floating above reality, watching and waiting inside nothing.

“Babe.”

Nothing was real. Maybe she was back in ICU, drugged up and bandaged, disengaged, inside a dream. She wasn’t here. She didn’t hurt as long as there was no sun.

Rose, like before, always like before, pulled her back out from the darkness.

“You want to tell me what really happened?”

No point, no strength to lie. “No.”

She felt a weight settle on the other end of the couch.

“I’m fine. I don’t want to be—“

“I know, I know. You aren’t a burden. We still watching a movie? You know my building’s internet is shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the incredible responses, comments and kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CT//: Back Injury Recovery, Back Cracking.
> 
> Thank you as always to AuroraReylo and DrRoslin for looking this over and SleepingKitten, Dorothy and DyadInBloom for their invaluable input!

****

**Then**

Studying at Waffle House wasn’t technically a date, and finals were a good reason to be nervous. It didn’t help that Ben sat right across the table, his long legs mere inches from her thighs, the scent of him—leather and musk and something purely male, driving her crazy.

“No joke? Mechanical Engineering?” He’s been thumbning through her textooks, and she used that as an excuse to stare at his hands.

Beautiful, long fingered hands she had no business thirsting after.

“What of it?”

He just grinned. “That’s fucking hot.” Because that clearly wasn’t enough, his denim clad ankle brushed against hers and Rey sincerely hoped he wouldn’t call her out for squirming.

She till had no idea why he wanted to hang around, but she enjoyed the company. The hotness factor? Bonus. And if she felt embarrassed with her thrift store finds next to his dressed down elegance she didn’t dwell on that. Not too terribly much.

“So you’re a martial artist...an Engineering major....” he let the sentence drag as if thinking it through. “Studying music theory?”

“Problem with that?” Did that come out too defensive? Rey pretended to drink from her cooling mug of tea to cover up the flush.

“It’s impressive as fuck.”

“Says the PoliSci major taking the same class.”

His turn to shrug, his brown leather jacket clinging to broad shoulders.“Politics are basically family business. Music is actually my thing. Production. Mixing. We’re almost ready to record.” At her blank look he added, somewhat shy. “I’m in a band.”

Cliche, but the hotness factor went up another notch.

“You might’ve seen our flyers on campus. Knights of Ren.” He studied her for a second, then added, “I’m not getting a sense you’re a fan.”

Somebody charming, witty, would’ve alluded to private performance. Rey tried not to freak over over the casual hot contact with his shin.

“You sing?”

“How’d you know?”

She took a sip of tea and went for nonchalant. “You got the voice for it.”

“A compliment?” He raised his brows.“I’m blushing.”

She was the one that flushed, and pressed her thighs together. “What sort of music do you play?”

“Death metal. You know, lots of cussing. Angry.”

“I’d like to hear it sometime.”

“I don’t think you would like it. You’re too sweet.”

She refused to blush again. “So certain are we?”

He shrugged. “It’s the style. Music for the angry, arrogant assholes. Some people really love that shit.”

The words popped in her head in rapid fire succession.

_**You know I can take,** _

_**Whatever I want.** _

_**And if you let me in,** _

_**I’ll make you beg until it hurts.** _

She froze, unblinking, letting the words fill her head, mouthing them even as kept softfocus on the beautiful asymmetry of his angular features, as if Ben were her muse, drawing the words out of her subconscious.

Full phrases this time, a complete stanza. With the cadence crystal clear in her mind, she kept her eyes on his and blindly reached out for a napkin.

His thigh gently nudged hers.“Rey?”

She must’ve shaken her head, because he simply watched as she wrote out the words, whispering them so not to forget a nuance. Rhythm and emphasis fought for dominance over meaning as she counted the beats over her fingers.

“Putting a hex on me?”

She read over the lines again and finally met his gaze, inwardly cringing at what she no doubt would find there. Except other then trying to read the words upside down, he remained completely nonchalant, as if this sort of thing happened all the time.

“Sometimes... It’s like there’s words inside my head.” She shoved the napkin under a textbook and cursed herself for blushing once again.

“Don’t. Please don’t be embarrassed.” No jokes this time, his voice quiet and earnest. “I could make out some of what you said—it sounded great. Can I read it? Please?”

His thigh nudged her knee again, and if she wasn’t careful, her feet would rest on his much larger ones under the table. The heat from him sent shivers up her spine.

She needed get them both on even ground.

“I’ll show you mine if you...” She raised an eyebrow and hoped to god she didn’t blush again.

Which she did anyway,because he laughed, the sound so rich and joyful, it could easily become her mission in life to give him something to laugh about every day. Then one of those large hands, the one with the ring around his thumb, curled under the hem of his Henley and started tugging up, baring a pale expanse of abs,hard, muscular, god, did he have an eight pack?

“What are you doing?”

“What?” Innocence personified. His laughing gaze held her a willing captive. “That’s not what you meant? Okay, okay,I’m fucking with you. Here.”

He dug out his phone and fiddled for a minute before passing the case to her. And since fair was fair, she shoved the napkin forward in a fair exchange.

The screen showed a zoomed out view of Ben shouting into a mic,a guitar strangled in his hands, his features drawn in, angry. She thumbed the sound up and anguish spilled out from the tiny speakers, the melody somewhat flat and yet still raw. Even in the small window, the intercity visibly rolled off him, a menacing beautiful power pouring from his frame.

And if she had to cross her legs to relieve some of the tension, nobody had to be the wiser.

“That’s... “ Beautiful despite the tragedy of all the tech distorting his voice.“Amazing.”

There it was, that devastating grin. As if he wasn’t the same person screaming on the tiny screen about fucked up heavens. “It’s bullshit. But this?” He held up the napkin between two long fingers. “This is. Fucking. Hot.”

Rey felt her own throat convulse when she finally dropped her gaze and swallowed.

His thigh rested right against her knee, the muscles hot and hard. The look in his eyes told her he knew exactly what he he was doing.

“Scavenger?”

“Hmm?” She wondered what his lips would taste like.

“What do you think?”

Oh. Crap. “Sorry, I lost my track of thought.”

His knee bumped against hers, sliding against her outer thigh.

“You got a melody for this?”

Why did that matter? “No?”

His turn to mouth the words and.. fuck... good thing for jeans. Even soft, that gravel quality intensified, the low timber vibrating through her spine right into her heat.

“Maybe like that?”

Enthralled, she could only nod and wondered what she could bribe him with to keep him singing.

“You mind if I record it with the Knights? In fact, if you have more, I’d love it. This kind of shit’s exactly what we’re missing.”

Oh.

She all but made a mess watching him sing, and all the while thought of his music. Business. Relegated to the friend-with-skills zone, because hey, look at him and look at her. At least he didn’t ask her to take apart hisFrench press.

“Sure.” She subtly twisted on her seat, widening the distance between her knee and that rock hard thigh.

This was fine. Good even. No time for guys—she already worked her ass off to pay for courses not covering by the scholarship.

Plutt always told her to be practical. Nobody hands kids like you the world. Nobody cares about your little poems. You really think songs are gonna be worth something? How long you gonna be a burden ‘round my neck?

“We should probably get back to these,” She nodded at the textbook, her arms suddenly cold. “The Mixolydian mode is calling.”

No answer.

When the silence stretched, she risked glancing up at him. All nonchalant, all friend like. “All ok?”

“You know, “ he murmured, and closed his book with a decisive snap. “I can’t fucking focus. Think you can help me?”

Apparently letting him borrow her lyrics wasn’t help enough.

“What’s up?” And she was caught by that gaze again, his thigh again touching her knee.

“Ive been dying to kiss you. Help a man out so I don’t spend the whole night wondering how you taste? Then maybe I’ll pass this fucking class instead of pining like an idiot and my Uncle will hold it over my head forever and never let megraduate the program and—“

Rey was stil laughing when she leaned over the table, still smiling when his lips brushed over hers, his mouth firm and slightly rough, the kiss sweet until it wasn’t, until the pressure on her lips turned hungry. The table between their bodies kept her from crawling on his lap.

“Fuck, Rey.”

She would’ve echoed the sentiment, except the words welled up again.

_**Make you scream my name** _

_**Make you crave the pain,** _

_**Make you want me.** _

*****

**Now**

Rey woke with a dull ache between her shoulder blades and a deeper type of sensation in her lower belly. And soreness between her thighs.

Oh.

Oh.

She’d forgotten what that felt like.

All right, compartmentalize. Wasn’t that the take away from the degree she neverfinished? Examine the working parts and isolate the problem.

Stupid or not, the deed was done. Luckily, he had the foresight to have used a condom because idiot her completely lost her head.

Her dry spell —has it really been years?—had been broken. She could use this as an excellent excuse to not be nervous with another man.

_Why yes, I’m a goddess in the sack, I fucked a rock star. Whom? I really can’t say._

Which would require her to actually go out and meet people, but hey, new day, new life. A traitorous part of her whispered nobody else wouldmake her feel like this, break her like this. Since the thought made her nose prickle, she mentally told that voice to go to hell.

She came two times, so what? She could do that right now with trusty batteries and much less drama.

She used her cane to snap and crackle out of bed—there, that’s real sexy. Haunched over, she placed her weight on the cane Rose had set by her bed, and slowly talked her body into straightening up.

Nice and steady. Easy breaths, easy stretches. With Rose’s massage and STEM and not-nearly-as-bad-as-Rey-deserved lecture on overdoing it, her back and shoulder weren’t nearly as vengeful as they should have. The soreness between her thighs? A reminder of poor life choices and things she needed to leave behind.

Even if said soreness, despite the edge of pain, brought back to mind things both forbidden and delicious. She certainly forgot how much liked things being... intense.

A sudden thought had Rey glancing through the window for any extra traffic. Did she need to worry about stans and stalkers. Granted, he showed up late, but...

Nothing out of the ordinary on her little street, at the parking lot of her little apartment, in a quiet if somewhat shoddy little neighborhood far outside the trendy downtown place he lived at and had convinced her move into.

Rey winced and slowly rolled her shoulders back, the pop, as always, crackling and loud. And maybe she had no words anymore because the cracking turned them into ash before she could write them down, but she was fine.

Maybe not thriving, definitely not thriving in her colorless apartment devoid of color and live plants. And truth be told, Ben, Kylo, she corrected herself, didn’t appear thriving either.

Despite looking damned good, in some ways better before, his torso wider, his aura dangerous and sexy, his eyes appeared.. empty. Almost as empty as her soul.

Or maybe she needed to stop romanizing him being an asshole.

Closure, Rey told herself and brought the cane up to her shoulders to start the first series of form Finn and Poe called “CaneFu”.

Their joint collaboration, a successful new therapy based off a blend of martial arts (Finn) and body mechanics personalized to ones injury (Poe with input from Rose) for people like her. Those who needed warrior arts to find a way out of their inner misery and focus on rebuilding their bodies.

Slow, rhythmic motions, eight deep breaths for each. A blend of Tai Chi, KenDo and Bo Staff forms, modified stances to prioritize balance and core strength, motions both controlled and slow,her internal metronome marking each inhale.

Here. In the present.

Counting breaths.

Feeling the sun wash over her.

_**You gut me with your beauty.** _

Her back cracked, forcing the rhythm out of her brain, and for the first time, Rey actually was happy at the interruption. No point in going there. No point letting the words take over if all she did was think of him.

Another crack—this time in her shoulder—when her phone rang and she lunged for it so not to wake up Rose, still sleeping on the couch despite it being nearly eleven.

Only one person would be calling her now. “I’m fine, Finn.”

A pause. Then, “Glad to hear it.”

That voice washed over her with the same potent timbre as always, a shiver that pulsed from her throat down to her cunt.

“How did you get my number?”

“Does it matter?” That deep arrogant voice did things to her he had to rights to. “How are you feeling?”

“Is that why you called?”

“I called to check on that sweetpussy.”

She barely managed a stammering, “Fuck you.”

“Absolutely. Free tonight?”

“I..” No, this wasn’t right. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see you.” No pretense, no preamble. No flirting, no meet-cute, no stupid games. “Find out if you taste the same.”

If she got wet, nobody had to know. “Last night was a mistake.”

“Two.”

“What?”

“You came twice. Two mistakes.”

“And yet I’m not keen on a repeat.”

A sharp inhale of breath. “I’m.. sorry baby. Let me make it up to you.” That voice alone could bring her to her knees.

“I don’t think so.”

“No?” Did he know how that dark laugh scattered and teased over her senses ? “I’ll whisper ‘I’m sorry’ into that soft pussy until you scream your third mistake.”

Her skin broke into goosebumps, tiny ripples of tiny orgasms that could lead to so much more if only she agreed.

She needed to hang up.

She needed to say something, something sarcastic, something flippant.

“Don’t you have plenty of models to scratch that itch for you?” Myriad of beautiful faces and strong bodies on his Instagram.

“Maybe I missed the taste of Sunshine,” he murmured and Rey nearly dropped the phone.

“Last night was a mistake.” He didn’t need to know her fingers slid between her thighs.

“You came back last night because you wanted me to fuck you.” The words came out low and clear, taunting her to press her fingers deeper in her folds.

“I came last night because I wanted to fuck Ben.” Silence told her she hit her target. Then...

“You liked that? I’ll text you the code so you can sneak into my room again.” She couldn’t help but groan at that dark cruel laugh. “And every time you say that name, I’ll spank that gorgeous ass exactly how you liked it.”

Stunned.

Shocked.

She forced herself to end the call, to push the button with a shaking finger. To snatch away the hand between her thighs. Arousal fading into heartache, Rey stared at the phone, fully expecting him to call and gloat for having won.

Nothing.

Was she.. disappointed?

**_You gut me with your beauty._ **

In a deliberate slow stretch, she twisted and let the crackles dust the beat.

Maybe she’d been an idiot last night, but that was done and over.Now she would move on with her life, which at the present meant get ready for classes at Resistance. And if she asked Maz for time off at the hotel, nobody had to know.

It looked like she already missed them calling, probably wondering if she was going to come back. Luckily, it wasn’t Kathleen who left the message, although the curiosity from one of the managers came through clear enough. Then again, running out on your shift two nights in a row was plenty reason to get fired.

The second message was from an unknown number, and her breath caught even before she heard his voice. “Rey.” That’s it, just her name.

Nobody would know if she didn’t delete his voicemail right away. Nobody would know that she replayed that several times before forcing herself to move the vm into trash.

Out of sight.

She was about to head into the shower when another call came in, this time from LA. Despite knowing better, she still held her breath when she picked up.

“May I speak to Rey Johnson?” Female voice, professional, polite.

Disappointment settled into a lead ball in her belly.

“May I take a message?” Always cautious. Then again, that happened when every agency in town came calling to collect the bills.

“My name is Kaydell Connix from Rebailititaion Insititue of Los Angeles. I’m calling to set up your appointment with Dr. Holdo—she is reviewing your case now and should be able to see you as early as next week.”

“I... what?” She shook her head. “I am not one of your patients.”

“No, m’am. I’m showing authorization to provide services and an accelerated consultation. Everything is already paid for.“

“No.” She fought to be polite. “No, thank you.”

And furious, she she jammed her finger on the number he had texted her, just above with the hotel room code.

“Change you mind, sweetheart?” She used to love the way he called her that.

“What. The Devil. Did you do?”

“Jerked off. Ran on the beach. Jerked off again thinking of you in the shower. Called your new doctor...”

“I don’t need dick from you,” she finally managed with a furious whisper.

“I seem to recall you begging for my dick.”

“Fuck you,” she sputtered, because that’s all her shorted out brain could muster.

“I’d love that, baby, so go see nice doctor. Wanna make sure I don’t break you if you want it rough again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your amazing comments and kudos!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CT//: Emotional manipulation (not Reylo)
> 
> Thank you for the amazing feedback from DrRoslyn for making this chapter sing.  
> Huge thank you to AuroraReylo for the beta and SleepingKitten,Dorothy and DyadInBloom for their input.

**_Now_ **

You’d think with the mil and an half she’d gotten from Snoke she could afford a fucking doctor. You’d think she would have known that no matter what happened with them, no matter if she threw him—and them—away, he would’ve helped her if she asked.

But no. Rey Johnson was too proud to fucking ask. So he would make her fucking beg, because, now that he settled from the chaos of last night, he knew exactly how he’d spend these few days back in hell that was Chandrilla.

He’d fuck that beautiful bitch out of his system and never look back. And since he was enough of an asshole to play dirty, he also knew exactly how to make her scream.

Sentiment? Sure. Wasn’t that exactly what the critics said was missing?

Strumming Anakin’s Fenton, he replayed the melody that slammed into his head when he dragged his ass back last night. Finally, something original, something the First Order people didn’t shove down his throat. And if the words were Rey’s, so what? Not his fault she signed a complete copyright release for all Knights of Ren lyrics.

His gaze went to the cardboard boxes on the carpet, still where they fell last night during his shit show. The crap that had spilled out used to be Ben Solo’s.

Closure, she whispered. What sort of closure she did she get by throwing all this at his face? She should’ve sold it if she wanted money. And if a part of him wondered, that first year, what she did with his shit, he certainly hadn’t hoped she’d call to ask him.

No matter.

Nothing mattered.

Not the drab life, not her stupid colorless apartment. Did the accident effect her? Kylo dug his finger into his own scar.

It didn’t matter that she didn’t call him, then or now. Nor did it matter how beautifully she fluttered and tightened around him when she came, not the way her face flushed just as he remembered.

It’s been some time since she fucked someone? Another thing they had fucking in common.

He would get her addicted to him, same way he had been addicted to her. He knew exactly how she liked it, what she wanted. And then he’d leave her, broken and yearning, the same way she’d left him.

Look at him now, so fucking magnanimous getting her a proper doctor. Instead of hanging up on him, she should be kneeling at his feet. Fuck, if she wanted, he’d be the one kneeling and begging. Anything to get a taste of her again, to run his hands over those strongarms, to lick that sweet spot on her neck. To watch that sweet pink mouth open when she came, to listen to her scream...

Fuck this.

Ignoring his aching cock again, Kylo strummed the melody and wished he had her gift with words.

_You gut me with your beauty._

Fuck his life, the way she looked at him.

If nothing else, he’d get her better. And leave this fucking town and her life.

The G string came back flat, but really, when was the last time that he had tuned this? When did the runners stop bringing his boards and synths up to his rooms?

He texted Mitaka to have someone bring him up a keyboard and aded a request to send a pot of daises to her place. When the knock interrupted another riff, hope bloomed that it was Rey, that she’d come to yell at him in person after hanging up.

Of course he wasn’t so lucky.

“The fuck you want?”

“Apparently, I’m your escort service.” Unlike him, Hux didn’t mind wearing their merch, the deep crimson Knights T-shirt making his hair look even redder. “Or cattle prodder. Either way, can’t say I love this fucking job.”

He moved aside so Hux could come into the room, the ginger fuck raising an eyebrow at the furniture bones and boxes contents jumbled on the pristine white rug.

“Should I be crushed I wasn’t invited to the party?”

Before his run down at the beach, Kylo had left a note for Maz, telling her to bill the damages to First Order. No doubt Snoke already put out feelers for a photo. This did go with his brand.

“You got a reason to be here?”

“Our supreme leader wants you. Or did your “song” turn out so well, that you forgot?”

“I was working on something. Here—“

“I honestly don’t give a flying shit.” No heat in those words, just wry reality. Another reminder they were all commercial artists, stitched together for their looks and not their creative minds.

And since Snoke would no doubt raise his non-existent eyebrows at the guitar—Fenton wasn’t a sponsor—Kylo carefully put it back into Anakin’s black velvet case. Maybe he’d play it on the interview tonight. A middle finger for his uncle.

“Bazine already bitched you out,” Hux said just as they reached the conference room doors—as if Snoke would lower himself to have a meeting inhis own VIP suite.

“Not surprised.”

“Hope your new “song” was worth it.” And Hux put on his usual resting sneer as he opened the door.

They weren’t supposed to be seen acting friendly. If anything, Snoke tried to play them off against each other, both on and off the stage. Kylo had no idea how in hell his bandmates, hand selected by Snoke for their appearance rather then talent, had become close enough to count as his friends.

Then again, things never went exactly as he planned them.

**_Then_ **

“Mr Snoke?”

“Just Snoke, young man. How are you?”

 _Shitty. Annoyed. Falling in love, I think._ “Well enough, thank you.“

“I’m glad to hear that. I finally had a chance to watch the video you sent.”

Ben pressed the phone into his ear. “I hope you liked it.”

“Liked it? No.” But somehow that wasn’t cutting. Not the way Luke dished out regret coated in fear. “Don’t get me wrong, it was fine for the venue. But you, you my boy, have the potential to be so much more.”

Ben’s heart sped up, the disappointment and the praise fusing together. “I appreciate you saying so.”

If this call was a kiss off, at least he fucking tried.

“You need polish, young man. Better backup, better equipment. A venue where people give more shit about the music then the drinks.”

Okay.

_Okay._

Decent advice, something he could actually use unlike Luke’s shrugs and “You’ll figure it out.”

“If you have any suggestions—“

“Do you know Velvet Jones? The manager owes me a favor.”

His heart pounded in his throat. “Of course.” He couldn’t breathe for fear he would miss the next thing Snoke was saying.

“Let’s start with that. Perform on a real stage, with decent equipment. Engage with the audience and build recognition for your brand.”

What the hell was his brand?

“I’ll reach out to them...”

“No need young man, it’s already taken care of.”

Nobody ever did things for him. _You’re a Skywalker, an Organa, a damned Solo. You shouldn’t be coddled just because you were born with a silver spoon._

“I... ah... “Fuck Luke, and fuck his mother for giving her twin so much control over his life. “I can’t pay you upfront. But I’ll—“

“Relax young man.” A benevolent chuckle. “We’ll consider it a debt repaid to an old friend. Do you have any questions I can answer? Anything I can help you with right now?”

Freely giving. No pulling teeth, no abstract words passed for advice. Ben paced, and asked more questions.

Rey hated waiting, but he knew she would understand.

**_Now_ **

The buffet greeted Kylo in the conference room a floor beneath his own, and what the hell, he snagged a strawberry and dipped it into cream, then piled a plate high with pancakes. This probably would cost two extra hours at the gym, but for once, Kylo felt like he could actually taste.

The second pancake settled in a carb-laden warmth inside his gut when Snoke walked in followed by an assistant. Or a bodyguard. The man could’ve easily been both with an IPad in his hand and a weapon buldge under his armpit. Why Snoke needed protection, nobody seemed to really know. Nor did anyone ask.

“Apparently we’re binging,” his mentor murmured instead of a hello. “Might need to reschedule that photo shoot with Canto Gyms. And a heads up for KNews makeup department for extra time in case of sugar breakouts tonight.”

He gestured at the assistant/bodyguard who started tapping on his tablet. At least that helped to curb the appetite.

Those eyes, unblinking and somehow inhuman, studied him, as if rifling through every thought and doubt in his head. Exactly what he needed, exactly why Snoke came here to have his back. To root out the seeds of weakness that had been Ben Solo.

Snoke made sure everyone wanted fucking Kylo Ren.

“I hope you’re enjoying Chandrilla.” With a sigh, the old man seated himself at the head of the table, piling pastries onto his plate.

Phasma, her arms and stomach tanned and bare, sucked down a gin and tonic. When you can’t eat, it’s never early to start drinking. Hux scowled and took a bite of bagel, then chased it with an appetite suppression pill.

“The club opens on Friday as you are aware. We’ll do a couple of on location shots with local influencers, and then head down to LA. There’s parties of course where you’ll be expected, interviews, sightings for photo ops.”

“Since when do we headline local clubs?” As always, anything from Hux was said with a bored sneer.

“Is that a question you’d like answered?”

That tone, pleasant and soft, did nothing to settle the carbs in Kylo’s stomach.

Hux slouched a bit. “I’m just saying. We’re too fucking expensive to rent out to—“

“—An upscale club. One where I’m main investor.” Somehow that eerie gaze landed on Kylo, as if somehow, he was responsible for that turn of events.

“But let’s address your point, young Armitage.” And Kylo really wasn’t liking where this was going. “Streaming numbers are on downward slope, your social media engagements falling short of predictions. So basically...“

He trailed off, the silence worse then having him say anything at all. All Kylo’s fault, because he either turned his nose up at the crap shoved at him by First Order, or worse, the resulting tracks never taking off.

No new hits in the last two years. Not since the wreck. Not since Han’s death.

“Needless to say, we need to look at changes.”

“I got something.” The words spilled out of his mouth before he could shut them away.Because the only thing his mentor required in return for all the money, all the fame, all the adoration, was an unwavering trust in his control. Anything new had to be brought up in private.

“It came to me last night.”

Although the proper show of respect was now long past, he still waited for Snoke to give him leave to play it.

A wave of a gnarled hand and his voice—too smooth, too bluesy,without the edge brought out by tech—poured out from the tiny speaker of his phone.

**_Pain. Why didn’t you take my hand._ **

Where he lacked in volume, the words made up in power, the raw emotion fucking critics claimed he no longer felt.

This? He could hear that pain, Rey’s anguish in the pulse of rhythm, the words pure and unprocessed. Untouched by algorithm or trends.

**_Why can’t I make you understand._ **

“What. Is. This. Emo. Shit?” Snoke held up a finger with a cutting motion.

Ben Solo might have bent his head, looked down. Kylo Ren? That fucker didn’t cower, the first thing he was taught as a man.

“It feels good. New rich sound. I want to get some gospel backup—“

“Feels?”

He hated that cackling laugh.

“We’re back to indie pop? The Knights of Crylo?”

Phasma kept head down but didn’t bother muffling a quiet laugh.

“Let’s hire folk guitars. You should man-bun your hair. We’ll scrap your brand and merch and start everything over, making new space in Indie Pop”.

Kylo fisted his hands at his sides under the table.“Clearly what we’ve been doing isnt working.”

“Young Solo.”

That name robbed him of breath.

“You have a problem hearing that?”

He grit his teeth as the room turned dead quiet. “That’s not my name.”

“Its not? This—“A gnarled finger pointed at the phone now carelessly tossed amidst the plates. “This came from that crying little bitch I thought we put to rest. But that’s exactly why we’re here.”

He stood now, a shriveled up figure that still had held a surreal power foreverybody to shrink back. “Who got you where you are today?”

Kylo knew better then to drop his gaze, even if his heart hammered in his ears. “You did.”

“I thought maybe you’ve forgotten. Forgotten that I plucked you out of college bands and given you a name. If it hadnt been for me, you’d still be nothing.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“No? Then maybe you’ve forgotten we don’t go by feels.” That gnarled finger pointed at Kylo’s chest, and though it was impossible, he could’ve sworn he felt the bands around his lungs tighten. “We go by numbers. Data. If we invest, we must know it will resonate with the targeted niche to maximize our profit. That niche wants rage, fury, the potential for harm.” he huffed out a breath, seemingly tired. “That niche... your niche, wants Kylo Ren.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What was that?”

Fuck. “I said, you’re right. And I’m sorry.” 

Snoke taught him to accept his own mistakes. To learn from them the hard way.Because of Snoke, he was exactly what he wanted, outside of Skywalkers and the Organas and wild antics of Han Solo.

The tense silence that fallowed was akin to torture.

“I expect you to bring your best performance, be it a small club or a packed arena. There’s plenty of sponsors in this town to make it worth the time.” Snoke waved dismissing them, but a pointed look at Kylo had him staying.

“I’m loosing patience with your second guessing.”

“I trust you. You know that.” His pulse thundered under his ears, his heart a frightened and trapped animal inside his ribs.

“Problem is in your mind. Your past still rules you. And in lot of ways the fault is mine—I see so much of your grandfather in you, so much of Palpatine, my mentor. I’m not hard enough on you because of my own sentiment.” As if exhausted, Snoke sank back into his chair, rubbing twisted fingers over his hairless scalp. “My feelings aside, the world cares about money. Nobody cares about your feels—they want only what you can give them. In your case, they are prepared to pay for rage that only you can manifest. Because unlike anybody else, you don’t bother hiding what the world deems negative emotion.”

The words washed over Kylo in a gun-clenching realization that Snoke once again was completely right. Nobody got him the way his mentor did.

Rage. He didn’t need to hide his rage. Not anymore.

Leia had been terrified.

Luke tried to control him.

Han never stuck around for a fight.

But Snoke? The man knew how to hone rhr fury, channel that power, make it marketable for people to fill arenas and collect his merch.

And with newfound calm, he let Snoke scrutiznie his features, all but feeling his mentor rifle through his head. No doubts, no sentiment this time, just a hard realistic look toward the future.

“I heard from Bazine’s rep. She isn’t happy.”

Relieved at the change of subject, Kylo saw no point to lie. “A waitress caused aminor scene. A fan. Baz didn’t appreciate me giving that chick some attention.”

“You fuck her?”

Kylo shrugged in answer and felt a nasty taste pool in his mouth.

“Will she post anything of value? We’ll pay her if we must.”

The bile rising up could barely be contained. “I doubt it,” he managed and fought not to say anything else.

“Hopefully somebody got wind of it, maybe the hotel staff can sneak out some footage. Bazine will amplify—you know her type—and we can use the hits. And Kylo... “ He pushed a pastry into the sour-lemon mouth. “I hope the large withdrawal from your account wasn’t to hush up antics at the hotel?“

The lightning speed with which Snoke found out about the withdrawal had Kylo exhaling with resignation. Mitaka’s loyalties were paid by First Order, nothing personal. And maybe Kylo shouldn’t have given to the impulse to reach out to the clinic, but he needed to do _something_.

“I know you didn’t like that track, but I can’t but feel we need to work on our sound. I’m investing in some talent that I think will help.” For a second Kylo thought he miscalculated looking at those eyes that studied him as if he were an insect.

“A protege? Delightful.” Gold rings looked garish on those twisted fingers. “You’ll find there’s nothing more rewarding... or heartbreaking.. then paying forward wisdom you’ve gleaned from your past. Especially in industry like ours.”

“Yes.”

Was it a trap? He wasn’t sure at this point, Snoke’s face not giving away emotion, no disappointment, no disgust.

“But since we’re on the topic of investments, there is something I must confess. I’ve been far more lenient with you then I should have, but if you’re taking a protege, I’m sure you understand. At this point... I must resort to funding the Knights out of my own pocket.”

“The sponsorships—”

“Pay for thing people can buy right now. Until we get more trending content, nobody wants to front logistics. Tech, studio time.. none of those are consumed wide enough, and all those places want cash upfront.”

“Next week, I’ll have access to my trust fund.” He blurted out the words as it somebody else had said that.

“Yes... your birthday.”

Those black eyes watched him, waiting for him to finish what he started. “There’s dividends from the hotels, the properties... I’ll sign them over as a guarantee.”

“A guarantee of what?” A slithering laugh. “A guarantee that you’ll get your head back in the game? Maybe it’s best this way. You’ll have access to your trust fund, you can pay back what you already owe me, revoke whatever you’ve signed over in good faith and walk away.”

The words made him taste bile. “Maybe it’s for the best. You’re more and more conflicted.”

“No.”

A raised hairless brow challenged that statement, showing him just how absurd that answer was. “We’re back where it all started. Seems like a perfect time to reassess.”

“Is that why we’re back here after all these years?”

Snoke should’ve snarled. Instead he simply smiled and steeped his hands. “I’m both flattered and insulted you think I’m that good at manipulating events. The timing simply works, and I don’t see the point of wasting an advance.” He leaned back in his chair, those obsidian eyes unlinking on Kylo’s face. “You have a cushion. Other’s don’t. Maybe that’s the problem—you know you’ll have something to fall back on. A safety net doesn’t make you nearly as hungry for success.”

“I’ll sign it all to you.”

_That’s complete bullshit, Kid._

He didn’t need his father’s voice inside his ear. “All of it. With a clause that I can’t revoke it.” He paced now, panic settling in. “I have no interest in going back.”

“I see.” Snoke folded his hands together, the steeped fingers a parody of peace. “If you’re certain?”

“Yeah.”

A slight nod of agreement. “It’s decided. I’ll have a lawyer prep the paperwork.”

The pounding in his head? All from a sleepless night, the emotional storm he should shore up to pour into a performance. The feeling of dread in his stomach? Reality of not measuring up. But had Snoke to kick his ass, to make him strong, to reach his full potential.

_Kid. Ben._

“Young Kylo.”

He lifted his gaze and met the cool stare of his mentor.

“If you can take... that emo garbage and polish it to be on brand, we can give it a go. But..” Snoke trailed off to make his point, “No whining. No self pity. Rage. Strength. You understand?”

“I’ll work on it right now.”

“Good. Good, my boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your amazing comments and kudos - you all are making me tear up with your lovely feedback.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW//: Anxiety/panic attacks, character engaging in self harming behavior.
> 
> Immense thank you to Elle, SleepingKitten, DyadInBloom and Dorothy for their input!  
> Thank you to AuroraReylo and DrRoslyn for their feedback!

_**Then** _

“How you long you’re gonna keep me in suspense?”

They walked for what seemed like miles, although it was Rey own damned fault for slipping on high heeled shoes. At least the torture devices put her level with his shoulder.

A “date” of sorts. With Ben Solo, senator’s son, practically royalty in Chandrilla. Bonus points for hot as hell.

“Not much longer, I promise.”

She wondered if he felt the calluses on her fingers, her hand tiny engulfed in his warm palm. And much as Rey hated to admit that, the contract, the entire act of hand holding in public with his skin against her, made her pulse rise up.

Maybe this wasn’t a date. He certainly didn’t look dressed up—if anything, he looked dressed down, well, dressed down for him. The vintage band tshirt stretched over that broad chest looked faded, dark jeans outlined those long long legs screamed class despite artful tears over the knees. The metal ring around his thumb—why the hell was that sexy?—glinted in the lamplights, and felt smooth and warm against her hand. The piercings in his lip and eyebrow winked at her as they crossed the street.

“If you’re taking me somewhere nefarious—“

“God, say nefarious again.” Since when did she go damp from that dark chuckle? “Believe me, I don’t want my ass kicked.” Then he lifted their joined hands and haunched a bit to bring her knuckles to his lips. “Trust me?”

Shivers scattered down her spineat that contact of her skin with his beautiful mouth.

Since you didn’t tell someone you were falling for them after a few admittedly hot humping session, Rey shot him a quick grin. “Should I?”

“Come on, Scavenger. You’ll like it.”

She needed to figure out a nickname for him. The “Your Royal Highness” somehow made him sad if not downright pissed off, although he’d tried to hide the anger.

The wind ruffled his hair, pulling dark locks into an artful mess over his eyes, and not for the first time, Rey wondered how they looked together, her in thiftstore finds, and him, with grunged down clothes that practically screamedmoney.

She figured they would be going to dinner, hence the stupid heels. She figured maybe tonight they would do... more... and had rehearsed the words she had to say.

_Don’t freak out but..._

Although the only person freaking out was her, already uncomfortable in the rising noise and streaming groups of peoplethe closer they got State Street.

The throb of voices rose, music strumming around them now that they walked amongst the bros strutting between the clubs and women showcasing their attitude and assets.

Masses of them, hordes, piling into the open seatings, pushing past, smoking, gesturing, talking, drinking. A blur of hands and faces, perfumes and rippling laughs, sweet cloying scent of pot cut with sterile scratch of achohol.

Velvet Jones had all their doors wide open, the band writhing on stagebacklit in full view from the street. Their words smothered by amps, two whip long guys harassed the mics and flung long stringy hair.

Humanity surged around her, pushing, shoving, and she didn’t realize she gripped Ben’s hand too hard until she caught his gaze, his forehead creased in question.

This.. This was the surprise? A club?

“You want something to drink?”

No.

No, she wouldn’t start screaming.

No here.

Not like this.

She made her voice rise up despite the tightening in her chest.“Whatever you’re having!”

Should she let go?

She couldn’t let go of his hand. Ben didn’t seem to mind her death grip, and feeling ridiculous using his back as a shield, Rey forced herself to walk inside the pulsing club, his frame a knife cutting through seas of people.

His lips against her ear. People, limbs, smells closing in on her.

“IPA?”

She nodded, because if she opened her mouth she’d probably hyperventilate.

Slow breaths.

Don’t panic.

No, don’t use that word, forget that word.

Everything was fine.

He must’ve said something about coming back, and the lines on his face bracketed a puzzled smile. Right, she needed to let go. _Let go, Rey._

She was fine.

Everything was fine.

She simply had to remember the simple act of breathing.

In. Out. Again.

Finn taught her some techniques, and Rey focused on the midpoint just below her belly button. The people coudln’t steal her oxygen, that wasn’t really a thing. She was an adult now, too big for someone not to notice. Nobody here would step on her hands.

She shouldn’t be screaming.

“Here.”

Rey must’ve lost track of time because she didn’t notice he came back. _You came back. Thank you for coming back._ A cool sweaty neck of a bottle pressed into her hand, and somehow, she had had the presence of mind to grip the glass.

At least she could pretend to like this. At least she could pretend to smile in thanks, when really, the smile was relief, _thank you for coming back, don’t go, don’t leave me here._

His presence a warm wall against her side, he kept the crowd back, shielding her from the limbs, and eyes, and voices. She wanted to take his hand again, but really, first dates wasn’t the best of times to tell someone you were a freak.

“Hang here for a while, yeah? I’ll be back.”

In this mass of bodies and noise and screaming, Rey focused on a bar stool and sat down, leaning against counter at her back, claiming her space as one would a small fortress. She was a martial artist for gods sake, she knew how to use her elbows.

_Don’t leave don’t leave don’t leave._

She woudln’t cry. She coudln’t even if she wanted, because crying required oxygen and her lungs were too busy.

Everything was fine, she told herself, and pressed her lips against the bottle. Nice and casual, like she belonged. Like clubbing was a thing that she did often.

Like normal people without panic attacks. Like normal people who didn’t freak about going to clubs or concerns or really, anywhere with people.

She could still see the crown of his hair. That was okay, she could focus on that. He said that he’d be back and Rey believed him.

Somebody jostled her, and in the wake of laughs and sorrys and spilled beer, she lost sight of Ben, how could she lose sight of him, so stupid, pleasedontleave. _“She whines like that a lot? No wonder my idiot sister ditched her.”_

Iron bands snaked around her chest, squeezing her lungs with gleeful certainty.

Ben left. They left her too.

_“It’s not like anyone would want you. Who needs another mouth to feed?”_

_She couldn’t be bad. She had to stop her crying, stop waking up her uncle with her screams at night. Who wants a whiny little burden ‘round their neck? Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t there, Uncle Plutt wouldn’t hear._

She fought for breath. She fought for air. She fought not to throw up.

“Hey mothafuckers!”

That voice. That gravel voice lifted her out of the past, the richness of him magnified by amps, the sound prying the steel bands around her chest apart.

And there he was, on stage, huge and dark and beautifully deadly under the red floodlights. In those metal accented hands he cradled a guitar.

He was... playing? Here? That was a surprise?

The bands around her chest had no prayer against that mischievous dark gaze that found hers. And when he grinned and wiggled his eyebrows, she didn’t have to fake a smile back..

“Thanks Velvet Jones for having us back. We’re Knights of Ren and this is Screaming in the Dark.”

His voice obscured by the electric screech of the guitars, he snarled of loss and pain.The melody kept breaking sync with drums, and yet his voice lay strips of silk over her clammy skin. The raw power of him...

Magnificent.

Gorgeous.

Born to be a star.

The crush of people didn’t disappear, the too close bodies swaying and pushing all around. But if Rey focused on him, on that voice, on that dark energy,somehow she managed not to freak out at the crowd. A tiny part of her, the part that made her cross her thighs, didn’t seem to mind the crowd at all.

His pale face painted red from strobing crimson lights, he prowled the stage, an animal of untamed power. She coudln’t look away. Even when she felt eyes on her, intense and cold from somewhere behind her, even as a wave of dread washed over her back, Rey didn’t turn around.

“You all enjoyed this? Good.” The way he said that, dark and taunting, had her throat convulsing. “How ‘bout another, brand new song. This is ‘Take Whatever I Want’.”

The bands of steel slid back around her chest, this time because... oh gods. Her lyrics.

The melody from the guitar came out as a shriek. The growl ripped from his chest nearly blew the mic and their collective eardrums, and had her insides clenching.

Her own words whipped over skin in thatdark velvet voice. The hoots and screams intensified, but Rey didn’t notice, lost in the way he took control. Her mouth must’ve fallen open because another jostle—how hadn’t she noticed someone in her space?—had her snap her teeth together with clack, biting the tip of her tongue in the process.

Her song. Her lyrics.

The crowd seemed to be receptive, the repeated line of “make you want me” simple enough to follow, resonating enough for them to sing when he lifted his hands inviting everyone to join in.

Incredible.

Gorgeous.

So fucking sexy.

Rey coudln’t tear her gaze away, her heart pounding in the same rhythm as the words he made his own.

“Like that, you fuckers? Special thanks to Rey of Sunshine for the lyrics.” She shook her head so hard, she nearly fell off the bar stool. Dizzy, fingers clutching steel, she hoped he woudln’t call her to the stage, wouldn’t watch her try to crawl through throngs of people.

No breath.

They took her oxygen.

If she fell down down, they’d step on her and all of them would laugh.

Hand on her mouth to keep from gasping too much air too fast, she fought and elbowed through the bodies and the noise and hands and laughs until she managed to get to the street, tripping on the idiotic heels.

She had to get out of here.

She didn’t want him to see.

She couldn’t let anyone see this idiotic thing that she’d become, somebody that needed to be taken care of, a fucking burden.

“Rey?”Hands closed over her arms.

She’d punch. She’d kick. She was a fucking martial artist.

“You okay?”

_Who wants a stupid cry baby?_

She wasn’t here. She could watch from afar, because that always helped her to contain herself.

“That was... Amazing!” She dragged air into her lungs and forced out the words, pushing her cheeks into a smile. “I can’t believe you did this! Thank You!”

The words hurt her throat, her skin clammy and freezing.

If he held her like this, maybe he wouldn’t let her fall.

Behind him, under the flickering red lights, the next band prepped for a new set.

“What’d you think?”

She focused on that grin, so full victory,

“It...” Breathe and smile. She wasn’t really there. She watched from above. “Amazing! I still can’t believe it. I think I’m a little shocked.”

“You liked it?” Those warm dark eyes searched hers, excitement all but pulsing through his body. “Seriously, give it to me straight.”

“Seriously, amazing,” she repeated. “You made it gorgeous.“

Her throat convulsed.

He kissed her, his lips warm against her freezing mouth. “Come on, I need to get back in. Gotta pimp the band.”

The blister on her heelcomplained when she stepped back, alway from the warmth of his body. “I.. “ Get home, get away, get somewhere private to break down. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” _Nobody likes girls who complain._ “I should’ve told you, martial artists don’t do crowds. The whole awareness thing, plus if I hurt someone there will be this whole big mess...”

Did that come out as fake as it sounded in her ears?

His grin faltered, the excitement flattening his eyes.

She did this to him, ruined his night with her stupid anxiety attack. _Chris Jesus, girl, you’re such a fucking burden. Quit your cryin, I came home didn’t I? The hell didn’t you get anything to eat? Not my job to remind you._

“Rey? You... okay?”

“Of course!” Bright eyes, fake smile. She’d burn the shoes as soon as she got home.”Go pimp! You’re a fuckin’ rockstar!” She stuck out her tongue and waved her hands with index and pinkey fingers sticking out.

He frowned, searching her face. “I’ll take you home.”

_You’re such a whiny little shit._

“Gods, no, I’m fine! This is your night and I expect to hear all about it on Monday.”

Not a date. Not sex. Not a reason to have “the talk” about her much smaller problem.

“Rey-“

“Ben.” She tried for an exasperated tone as people pushed right by. Nobody noticed her. Nobody cared that she wasn’t breathing. “Don’t tell me you don’t think I’m capable of getting myself home?” Inside her head, her pulse shredded her ears. Outside, the cars sped by, people walking in clusters, talking, laughing. Nobody had to know. Nobody had to know she needed to throw up. Nobody had to know that she was dizzy, that she coudln’t stand being here. That she was a freak.

“I’ll wait with you until you get an Uber.”

“Young man.” The chills returned again, this time the kind that crawled over her spine, the voice a type of hiss, the man who owned it, old and weathered. “Is there a problem?”

“Hey, Mr Snoke! You came!”

That leathery face, all sunken eyes and glass sharp cheekbones, stretched into a smile. “Just Snoke. I wouldn’t miss it. But I can’t hype your band.”

“I know. I just need to get my friend home safely.”

“Go on.” She would’ve walked awayhad his hand not been wrapped around her arm. Briefly, she contemplated throwing his hand off, if only to get away in time before the shaking started. For once, the delayed reaction led to something good. “You should go get back inside.”

“The young lady is right.” The way he spoke, holding Ben’s gaze as if entrancing him, had her gut churning. Then again, anyone would feel nauseous in her place.

Ben looked between them, clearly torn.

”Go on. Besides,” she made a show of bringing up a fist, “I’m the scariest thing out here.”

“Kylo.” The word made her cringe. “I would be happy to send my driver to ensure your... friend,” this was said with a sweep of eyes down the length of her body, “got safely home.”

“I’ll call an Uber,” she muttered through chattering teeth and earned herself sharp toothed smile.

“Go on, young Kylo. We’ll wait here with your friend.”

**_Now_ **

Because she wasn’t a masochist, she asked Maz for time off while he was there. Technically that should’ve been Kathleen’s decision, but at this point, Rey had no problem going above that woman’s head. Maz, bless her, didn’t ask many questions.

Since Rose would’ve spilled the beans (and relished doing so) if Rey took on too many classes at Resistance, she simply let it be known she was free to sub if anyone was out,and asked Chewie for extra hours at the shop. Although technically she didn’t have to make up the difference in hours, the idea of missing the monthly savings goal—all for fear of catching a glimpse of him at the hotel—stuck in her craw.

Rey didn’t think of him, not much. She didn’t think of that voice in her head, that dark erotic chuckle in her ear. She didn’t pull up the one image of him she’d saved on her phone.She certainly didn’t mentally replay the things he’d growled to her while she touched herself, only as a means to finally go to sleep.

She didn’t look at that bright blue pot of fucking yellow daises.

Certainly not in her bedroom, staring at her and keeping her awake. Who needed sleep when nightmares kept you screaming?

Energy drinks gave her enough strength to teach her classes, guiding those like her—broken and healing—through safe routines and mental discipline of Warrior arts.

Kids loved her cane, the one she had to special order for right balance. Resistance kept similar ones in stock at the reception desk. Adults loved the idea of doing martial arts with something as humbling as canes being a weapon, the forms and stances adapted to their special needs and strengths. 

And once classes were done, none of the students were here to see her beating up a punching bag, her movements practiced and precise and blatantly against Rose (and Poe’s) orders.

**_Make you writhe in pain.._ **

She was all out of cracks, but the sound of knuckles against leather destroyed the rhythm just the same.

The bastard toyed with her. Damned daisies—fucking sunny spots of yellow she should’ve given to old Mr Ackbar next door—mocked her every second she was inside her colorless apartment. Which was why she was here, hours after her classes ended, refusing to go home.

Fucking daisies.

Almost enough for her march up to his suite—because he had the audacity to text her the code in case she needed it—and dump the pot onto hishead. She’d have to stand on a damned chair, but she’d do it.

**_Make you scream my name..._ **

**_Your first first name._ **

She knew better then to swing with just her arm—ab and back muscles needed to take the brunt of the shock of contact. And yet here she was, panting in agony at the rookie mistake.

But at least without the lyrics crowding her head.

“You done beating yourself up?”

“How long have you been here?”

Finn leaned against the doorjamb. “Long enough to know you got things on your mind.”

She wondered if Rose spilled the beans, and felt a twinge of guilt not coming to him sooner. Then again, Finn always let his thoughts on the matter be known, even his his methods were always gentle, his encouragements straight from Sensei Yoda’s mouth unlike Rose’s taunts. You want that motherfucker to come back and see you all haunched over? Stand up and give me five more steps.

Finn was the one who made the correlation between the cane and a Bo staff. Poe had worked out the best body mechanics. Rose developed the routines. All of them poured their hearts, and Rey’s blood, sweat and tears, into making sure she’d walk, and really, function. And at the end, they turned the process into The Resistance Center, a non profit where Rey refused to be on the board of directors but taught classes just the same.

“The... Knights of Ren are back in town. ” Since he was watching, didn’t punch the bag but instead lifted her arms up for a slow stretch. The pop and crack along her spine muffled his answer.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I saw him on the news. You doing okay?”

Okay? No. No, she wasn’t bloody okay, she didn’t know if she had been okay for a long time.

She worked three jobs so she wouldn’t be at home alone. So she would have a savings account “in case something happened”. She taught classes so people like her found something hopeful. And in the end, it took a fucking mindless, careless, almost cruel fuck, for her to realize she hadn’t been living at all.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered, and somehow it was almost a relief not to pretend. “I thought I had moved on. But.. no. It’s like I’ve been stuck and now....” Because the emotion that welled up didn’t have a name, Rey snapped a fist into the bag and relished the agony between her shoulder blades.

Better the agony of pain instead of crying.

“You’re angry.”

Something pinched her nose and Rey blinked rapidly, willing away the sensation. Because her hands shook and Rose would have her fucking spleen if she roundhoused the bag (some things you just didn’t do regardless how well you recovered) Rey front kneed the red leather instead. “I got nothing to be angry for. You wanna spar a bit?”

Finn had his arms crossed over his chest, his face, usually set in gentle lines, sweet but closed off . “It’s not me you want to hit, Rey.”

More of those prickles again. “I meant point spar, but if ready to admit defeat....”

“Why are you punishing yourself?”

She kept her voice deceptive, soft. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“You should go home.”

To her grey colorless apartment with the daisies mocking her. “You don’t want me here?”

“Not like this. Go home. Or go see him. Isn’t that why you’re beating yourself up?”

“I don’t want to see him!” The accompanying punch sent the bag swinging, the shock and pain ripping apart her back.

“All right.” Finn shook his head, and gods, she hated seeing him disappointed. She’d seen that same expression on his face when she refused to get up, refused to be present.“I’m here for you, you know that.But I can’t force you to deal with your self-destructive baggage.” He nodded at still swinging bag. “You’re the only one who can.”

“Hey Rey?” Poe came up behind his husband, frowning at a paper in his hand. “You want to tell me why celebrity spinal surgeon Lauren Holdo’s office is calling our humble establishment to request your records? I mean I’m hurt,” he grinned and pressed a dramatic hand over his chest, “that you might seek the opinion of somebody I idolize but... Rey?”

She didn’t realize she grabbed the punching bag around, a parody of a close embrace. She didn’t realize she’d gotten dizzy until Finn’s hands came up under her elbows, with Poe rushing into her space to check her pulse, her eyes.

“I swear, I’m going to bloody kill him.” If visions actually turned red, she would be weeping blood. “Poe, I’m so sorry, I had no idea he’d take it this far. I’m most certainly not going to see Dr. Holdo. I am most certainly,” she wrenched herself away, hot air filling up her lungs, “going to kick his ass right bloody now.”

***

Poe looked at his husband’s grinning face as Rey all but ran out the door.

“Do I want to know whathappened?”

“Probably not. But now I’m in the mood for hate sex. What do I do that gets you all pissed off?”

“You leave intake papers everywhere, you never wash the dishes, I have to nag you to clean BBs litter, you —“ He was already gasping in arousal when Finn tackled him to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos and encouraging words!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW://Rage/screaming/rough hand job/slapping.
> 
> Thank you to AuroraReylo and Dr Roslyn for their amazing input!

Then

It should’ve been the best night of his life. Snoke of First Order actually came here in person to watch him. Ben hadn’t know he would show up—he certainly would’ve been too nervous to bring Rey or try out new material, but fuck, it was all good. It was fucking amazing. Maybe hisbackup sucked, maybe the sound got too grunged, but the potential was there. And unlike anyone wanting a favor from his family, Snoke had no reason to kiss his fucking ass.

Rey would be fine. She said herself she was a goddamned martial artist. She could take care of herself, and she would no doubt castrate anyone implying she was too female to get home safe.

And Snoke would no doubt sneer at this ridiculous hesitation, the tug of war between a girl, granted, amazing fucking girl, and his entire future.

She would be fine. She understood. Not his damned fault she wasn’t comfortable in crowds. Sometimes, he hated the crush of people too, his hulking frame a good deterrent to keep most idiots at bay.

The way she looked... like she was drowning? With that faking-ass smile? Didn’t she like her lyrics on the amps? Didn’t she get off how everybody fucking loved what she created?

Nobody gave a fuck abouthis heritage or money when he was on a stage.

Ben shot the shit and downed vodka. And if he sent a discreet text to Rey to check if she got home, at least she could reply.

Snoke did raise a non-existent eyebrow, his frail body tucked into a magically empty corner, as if the cattle here understood to give him fucking space.

“Motherfucker, that was amazing.” Somebody shoved him in the back.

“Beautiful,” breathed a red-mouthed brunette in a tight outfit and hands that didn’t know where to stop.

He kept the snarl for character and worked the croud, most of the time parroting the same damned thing _yes, they were working on their EP yes they were on Insta.Twitter. Yes, they were getting merch for sale._

When the noise and his own menace got too much, he ducked outside to get fresh air, once again digging out his phone to frown at lack of notifications. Why didn’t she text back? Did she not make it? Did she go somewhere else? Was she fucking okay?

Hearing a slight shuffle behind him, Ben slapped his game face on. This time the snarl came out feral. Real. And with it, he hated that tiny sliver of hope.

“Ben.”

He used to idolize his uncle. The man who stood before him had the same half-hidden fear lurking under the bushy eyebrows, the fear he has worn for years now.

“You saw the gig?” He actually bothered?

“I caught a glimpse.” Dismissive jerk of those thin shoulders. _No great job, not even a wow kid, you can scream_.

Instead, his uncle slicked a fingertip over his upper lip. “You know, your mother would be sick.”

Ben frowned, then remembered the new piercing. “You going to tell on me?”

“It’s not my circus.” The old man took a pull of something in a green canteen. “I worry about you Ben.”

He didn’t need this shit. Not now, not of all days, today.

“Uncle Luke—“

“All that anger inside you. You sound just like him.” Like Vader,thought he didn’t say that out loud. Nobody needed that connection known.

“I’ll take that as a fucking compliment.”

“It wasn’t.” Luke sighed, a long exasperated breath the foreshadowed a lecture. “He let it consume him. It became everything he was, to the point where he believed his own lyrics. It fed in on itself.”

“He had a mental illness. Which nobody gave a fuck about as long as it made money.”

“That girl you were with? Rey? Don’t shake your head at me, I’ve seen you two together. You think she’s going to stick around seeing how you get when you’re in a mood?”

Fury had him clench his fists. Only Skywalker’s knowing eyes all but daring him to do something stupid kept Ben from pushing the old man into the crowd.

“You’ve always been prone to these...” his uncle paused as if searching for the right word, “outbursts. This type of music, this persona you put on will make it worse.”

He had to fight to keep himself from screaming. “I’m too old for you to send me to my fucking room.”

Nobody gave a fuck, not Luke, certainly not his parents. Not Rey who just took off. He had the best, most important night of his life, and he was stuck celebrating with strangers while those closest to him had more important things to do.

Except for Snoke. Who took time out of his schedule, flew all this way out to see him.

Without another word he left Luke on the street and pushed through the masses toward the table where his mentor ordered a line up of shots.

“You don’t look like a man enjoying his success.” He pushed one in Ben’s hand—another vodka. Ben took the cool glass between trembling fingers and let the burn slide down his throat and through his veins.

“Let’s just say Skywalkers know how to ruin a party.”

“Your family is here?” This was accompanied by a sweep around the room, and if he wasn’t buried in misery, Ben would’ve said his mentor didn’t look thrilled.

“They think I have an anger problem.”

“And that’s... not something desirable, if I understand?”

For once, for fucking once, somebody didn’t simply dismiss his temper as something _bad_.

Ben pressed his fingers hard along the glass, willing, _fucking willing_ himself to maintain because nobody, least of all the owner of First Order wanted to hear him whining.

“Young man. Look at me.” And it should’ve been creepy the way the man put his gnarled hand over Ben’s on the shotglass. “I knew your grandfather. I know how the media had spun it. The sickness. The embarrassment. I’m telling you, anger wasn’t wasn’t his problem. Anger isn’t something to be afraid of, not if you channel it to power. Rage gives you strength if it’s used the right way. Your grandfather’s illness was an excuse, used by his family and everyone he knew because he was too different.That difference is what separates regular grunts from greatness.”

Although he wanted to look away, Ben couldn’t tear his gaze from those obsidian eyes, as if the old man had some sort of power.

He was right of course. Vader was different, and great in his own way. And Ben? Well, he certainly inherited some of that famous anger. And unlike Luke, at a dead end boring job, afraid of his own shadow, Ben had no problem channeling his feelings into something new. Something bigger then himself. Something outside of Ben Never Good Enough Solo.

Then someone bumped into him, a slosh of something faintly vanilla and antiseptic, and broke the invisible pull of that hypnotic snake-like gaze.

“Thank you for saying this.” He slid his hand away, all the while thinking nobody in his family ever said anything like that. Ever. “I didn’t realize you knew him. Anakin.”

The old mannodded and looked away, as if in memory. “I knew him as Vader.”

Now

He never questioned how the groupies got into his suites. In the beginning, that didn’t matter because they were always beautiful and eager and hyped on one thing or another.

Later, they weren’tgroupies. They were models, bloggers, influencers. Anyone Snoke deemed worthy based on their status and their stats.

He lost himself in them, in their outward glitz and hidden insecurities. With them, Kylo saw kindred spirits, beautiful shells and ruthless minds. The most successful had been fiercely intelligent, and those were the ones he usually got “caught with”.

Tonight, raw after two days buried in the studio with _nothing_ , working his fucking ass off only to produce complete and utter shit, last thing he wanted was their company.

“Get the fuck out,” he spat as he coded himself in, the roadie behind him lugging his boards and other crap he probably wouldn’t need because nothing was fucking working.

And as he took several steps into the white on white chrome accented front room, snarling at whatever groupie having pawed through shit no longer on the floor, he caught a glimpse of movement.

And there she was, fierce Sunshine standing up above the debris of furniture Maz had refused to send in anyone to clean.

“Get out,” he threw back at the roadie, who was no doubt already texting Snoke even as he stumbled through the door.

Kylo had dreamed about this. Not in the last few years, but in the beginning? His fantasies had started just like this, Rey sneaking into his hotel room,face flushed, those sweet lips parted. Aching for him, eyes glistening with tears. Saying she made a mistake, pleading for him to take her back.

He would of course, after sufficient begging. Hell, if it helped, he’d be the one to beg, promise her anything, _everything_ , so that she wouldn’t fucking leavehim.

“Changed your mind, Sunshine?” He started to tug off his t-shirt.

“I’m going to kick. Your. Ass.” She stood at her full height, a vision in grey sweatpants and a faded tshirt, some stupid indie band splayed over perfect little tits. No tears in those hazel eyes. The emotion on those parted lips couldn’t be called pleading. If anything, the word that came to mind was rage.

He got rock hard at record pace.

“Where the fuck you put my shit?” The papers and Ben Solo’s things were no longer on the floor.

“It’s going to the dumpster,” she replied and fuck him if arousal didn’t mix with fury.

“I could have you arrested.”

“And I can sue your goddamned ass.”

“I only—“

“Where the hell do you get off?” That voice, so fucking ugly. So damned hot.”Calling some stupid doctor? Giving them my info, _paying_ for god’s sake, regardless if I wanted it or not? Having them call the center for my records? You have any goddamned idea how that looks?”

“That’s one hell of a thank you.”Already painful, he made no move to adjust himself inside his jeans, the ache and pressure somehow fitting.

“You had no right.” There she was, the fierce warrior. A part of him wanted to sink down on his knees and have her cut him down.

“You had no right to anything having to do with me.” She advanced at him, her finger stabbing into his chest. “You had no right barging into my place and pretending like you give a fucking shit because—“

His mouth stopped the rest.

She tasted same yet different, salt, something bitter, peaches. A part of him wondered if she would strike him, the kiss angry and bitter and fucking hot. Except she growled, _she fucking growled_ and bit his fucking lip, and Kylo lifted her up in his arms to give her a better angle to devour his mouth. Nails dug into his shoulders, the pleasure/pain an aphrodisiac he had forgotten how much he craved.

Her ass so firm and beautiful under his hands, he sank onto the couch and let her straddle him, that gorgeous taut body a live wire.

When her teeth closed over his bottom lip again, he tasted copper.

So hot, so perfect, so beautifully feral.

“This? This is what you wanted? Kylo?” She spat out that name and all he could mutter was a vicious _yes_.

“ _Your first first name_ ,” she mouthed in a horrid whisper, and rolled her shoulder till he could’ve sworn he heard a crack.

“You’re such a bloody asshole,” she hissed against his mouth and Kylo was too busy reveling in her heat to disagree. “A bloody prick,” she bit his lip again, and fuck, if he didn’t come right then.

“You talk a good game. Hide behind Kylo Ren like it’s a mask. And send me fucking daisies?” And to his shock, she slapped him hard across his face. “Seriously. Daisies. Dark Prince of Death Metal being sweet? Say what you want, you fucking prick. Inside? You’re still—” Another slap, this time, harder. “You’re still Ben Fucking Solo.”

This time, he caught her wrist.

“You don’t want Ben.”

Except fuck his life, she was right. The daisies had been a Ben move, that whiny fucking emo. Keeping a steel grip on her wrists, he anchored her against his torso just to breathe and near shot his load off when her teeth sank in his chest. Exactly where—

No, he wouldn’t think of the tattoo.

She wrenched her wrist against his thumb and reared her arm back, for all the world as if about to knock him the fuck out.

He’d let her, of course. Fuck, he would let her do anything.

And the only sound that escaped him was a forceful whispered fuck when she yanked down his zipper.

“What bloody headgames,” she whisper-screamed into his face and palmed his cock, “do you think you’re playing?”

Lost, with no thought or breath, all of his blood, all of his soul focused on the pleasure pain, Kylo could only watch as she rubbed her hand up and down over his boxers, curling her fingers just enough for him to feel the bite of nails.

“Fuck Rey.” He hadn’t meant for that to come out as a groan, helpless under her hand, her fury and his need holding him prisoner.

“Playing with me? Like this is some sort of game? You sick shit.” Rough slides of her hand over his cock, up and down motions, her knees against his thigh, her other hand, fuck his life, coming to curl around his throat.

Such tiny hand. Such fierce mouth.

She crushed her lips on his, probably a good thing, since he wasn’t far from pleading. Hard motions on his cock, a squeeze of non-too-gentle fingers had him gasping for breath.

“What do you think you’re about?” And holy shit, she stroked him faster, curling her fingers in over the fabric, the bite of pain edging the pleasure higher. “Trying to be sweet? Playing some bloody game to make me think you care?”

“I just—.” He couldn’t breathe. “I want you to get better.”

“Better? You arsehole,” and he sucked in a painful breath when the hand at his throat pressed harder, “You’re years too late.”

He would’ve opened his mouth to respond except he had no breath left in his lungs, no thought to protest. His body seized, limbs taut, neck arched, completely helpless, and when she slapped him once again, he spilled against her hand.

For short moment, all was quiet. For a short moment, all stood still.

“Oh. My. God.” she finally whispered, so soft, so broken, the words rapidly cooling the blood inside his veins.

Like a dumb shit, he stared up at her, his jagged gasps filling the air, in and out. Then with a soft sob, she used his tshirt to wipe off her hand and moved away from him as if he was something disgusting.

“That was....”Those hazel eyes burned with a fire he didn’t understand. “I should be sorry. I’m not....” And then she whisper-screamed “I’m fucking angry.”

Such a short word, so deceptively easy to describe the turning into lava.

“You.”

He had to take a breath. He had to fucking blink.

“You’re.” _What the fuck._

“You’re fucking angry?” He forced the words out of his throat, the sheer audacity making him dizzy.

_She was fucking angry?_

Feet spread apart as if ready to fight, she looked like a wet dream. A furious wet dream who took him down, ground him under her foot, tore up his pride and wore the shreds as armbands.

“You fucked me like a groupie. Like I meant nothing.”

“Isn’t that why you came back,” he spat, “for one last fuck?”

That’s when she laughed and damn him if he wasn’t close to tears.“You certainly gave it to me good.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” A cold sliver of truth through agony of rage.

“As if I give a damn.” Another uglylaugh that sent more dread through his pounding heartbeat. “You had to show up after. All concerned. Send me flowers. Get some stupid celeb to hound me when I’m as good as I’ll ever get.”

“If that’s what you call good—“

“See this?” And she snatched up some sort of wooden staff he hadn’t noticed before. “I’m good. Great even. And if you come near me again, I’ll use this thing to kick your goddamned ass.”

Still on the couch, his spent cooling on his skin, Kylo still couldn’t make his brain compute what happened.

“Rey-“

“No.” She angled the staff in front of her, as if prepared to strike him. “You’re Kylo Ren. I’m nothing to you. I _should_ be nothing to you. And I’m...angry...I’m _livid_ , “she whisper screamed that last part, “Because those flowers? The fucking doctor? The way you checked on me? That’s all Ben Solo. Ben Solo who,” she stomped the staff. “ _Never_ came back.”

In the strung out silence, the words hung soft and sharp as tears. For a moment, he simply rocked back on the couch at the sheer power, the sheer audacity of what she had just said.

“Came back.” The glass shards of the words dislodged the dread inside his throat so he could fill his lungs with air. “You’re the one that fucking disappeared.” He wanted to roar into her beautiful flushed face. “Did you forget that part? How many times I fucking called and you —”

“You called. You bastard.” Was that a sob? She turned toward the door but then turned back around, her limbs making a cracking sound, herjaw line strong and tense.

“ _Let the past die_.” She mouthed the words even as her eyes went wide as saucers and he could’ve sworn he heard another crack.

“Rey, wait.” That voice, that plea, it was all Ben, that whining soft boy. “A least let me get you off. I owe you that much.”

She had the audacity to look at him with those hurt eyes, as if somehow all this was his fault. Fury pulsed through him, fury he tried to brutally contain just on this one chance to have her one last time.

“You owe me everything,” she threw at him and staff in hand pushed open the door just as somebody started knocking.

“Not his usual type, but I would tap it.” Phasma’s droll voice.

“And who might you be?” This from Hux. “You here to beat him up?

Hands sticky, shaking, Kylo pulled his jeans back up and fumbled with the button.

“I’m no one.”

“Fucking. Don’t.” This wasn’t rage. This wasn’t fury. Unnamed emotion overflowed his veins, his eyes all but bleeding from the excess. Heart roaring in his ears, muscles primed to burn, Kylo pushed past his band mates, past the boxes she must’ve stacked outside the door and skidded to a stop down the hall to see her slide a card into a service elevator.

“Rey.” He had to keep his voice dead calm. Maybe not calm, maybe the fucker trembled, but at least he didn’t scream. He didn’t scream because he was afraid he wouldn’t stop, that he would tear this fucking hotel down.

She didn’t turn around, simply angled her head as if waiting, leaning her weight onto the staff.

“You leave right now, I’m not running after you again.”

A challenge tossed. And just like that accepted.

“You never did.”

He rammed his fist into a wall and swallowed up the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we earned some sweetness...
> 
> Thank you as always to AuroraReylo and Dr Roslyn and Elle for your incredible input!

**_Then_ **

Because it wasn’t enough to be confused by whatever bloody headgame he was playing, Rey bent her wrist punching a bag. Because of course he had to be working out too, as if nothing had happened.

Just great, just bloody perfect. Now her wrist hurt on top of other things that ached, and she did her best to ignore everything while pushing through the mindless checklist of closing up the gym. And maybe permitted herself the tiniest huff because he followed her around like a puppy.

“Out with it.”

“What?” She struggled with the last set of the glass doors.

“Whatver’s got your panties in a twist.”

“My panties aren’t your bloody business.” Wasn’t that classy? “Just... I need some space. I’ll walk home, you don’t need to stick around.”

He hovered over her while she tried to push the key into the lock, his stupid giant frame all but taunting her with heat. And fuck her life, the dolt grinned, locks of dark hairfalling over his eyes in that way she really didn’t want to fawn over right now.

“Here, let’s try this.” In a ridiculously typical male gesture—why was it so hot?—Ben reached behind his neck to tug the muscle shirt off that sculpted body.And raised an eyebrow.

Gods, he was built.

“What are you about?” She certainly wasn’t effected by the sight of that pale gleaming skin dotted with moles. Nope. Not one bit.

“Sock me, right here.” He slapped a giant palm against his abs, and in all honesty, Rey was freaking tempted.

“I’m not in the mood.” Well she was, but that was the whole point. Was he toying with her? Trying to get her to beg? Trying to keep things casual so she wouldn’t get attached? _You cry like that, no wonder they didn’t come back._

With Plutt’s voice in her head, she managed to finally lock the bloody door. That wide expanse of pale smooth skin blocked the path to get around the building.

“You’ve been glaring at me for days. You think I haven’t noticed? So here, go ahead. I swear you’ll feel better.” Caveman style, he banged a fist over those sculpted pecks.

“I don’t resort to violence to solve my problems.” She stepped around him, grateful that in the shadows, he wouldn’t see her face.

“And yet you beat the shit out of that poor bag.” He easily kept pace with her, long legs eating up the ground.

Short of shoving him into the dirt (good luck with that), she had no choice but to endure. The night air did nothing to dampen his scent—who the hell smelled good when sweaty?

“Put your bloody shirt back on.”

“Why? Does this bother you?”

No point to dignify that with an answer.

“Come on, Scavanger, spill. You still pissed from the other night?”

“I told you, I completely got that.” Okay, maybe she lied. She had expected something and was disappointed. Assumptions and all that. “I don’t play bloody head games.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” He pushed a hand through sweat-dampened dark locks. “You’re pissed because I used your shit without asking first? I’m sorry. I honestly thought you’d get off on that.”

Typical. Of course he’d think of music first, and here she is still stuck on “getting off”. Which technically she did that night when he banged on the door of her apartment, so technically she had nothing to be ticked off about. Right?

“You have my full permission to use all my ‘shit’.” She raised her hands in air-quotes for emphasis. “Now please get out of my way.”

Except the teasing Ben was gone and in his place stood the one from the stage, brooding, intense, dangerous. “Just fucking tell me what the hell is wrong.” That low tone all but stroked over her clit.

“I don’t do head games, Ben. You want to be friends? Fine. You want us to be friends with benefits? Great. You want to take it deeper? I’m interested. But this are we/are we not shit doesn’t fly with me. I’m not a mind reader and I hate second guessing.”

Arms crossed over his chest, he simply stared at her, eyes hooded, his jaw tense. “You’re not a mind reader and you hate second guessing.” The way he said that, so dark and intense, his voice a velvet whip over her skin. “And yet here you are, talking in circles. Hypocrite much?”

Now she really was tempted to slug him. “In what universe would you say that?”

“How about you spell out what’s pissing you off?”

A martial artist never struck out in anger. A martial artist sought peaceful solutions, de-escalating situations before they got out of hand. And so she snapped her mouth closed, took a breath and made herself uncurl her fists.

“Want me to spell it out? Fine.” She resumed walking. “I thought that night we really connected. I wasn’t thrilled how things went at the club, but that’s on me, not you. My issues aren’t your problem. When you came over to check on me...” She made herself speak clearly rather then mumble. “I thought things were going to go further then... you know. That clear enough for you? I’m pissed off and honestly, I’m not sure what to think.”

Five days. Five days since the night at club, after she dropped her other big deal at him, because having one issue simply wasn’t enough. _I can’t stand being in a crowd. Oh and I bleed if it’s been a while since I’ve had sex._

His palm closed over her wrist.

“You wanted to get laid?”

“Crude much?”

“Okay, let me rephrase that. You wanted me to fuck you.”

She had the strength—and training—to twist her wrist out of his hand. Instead she went with sarcasm. “I wanted to make love. Under the starslight. With rose petals, and silk sheets and candlelight and—“

“Rey.”

Maybe it was a trick of light, but he looked like a fallen angel.

“Honest as fuck, I’ve been dying to do that. But...”

Here we go, the speech.

“I’m kind of... sort of intense.”

“I noticed.”

“I mean... sexually.”

She had to snort at that.

“And I really like this. With you.”

Might as well stamp FriendZoned on her freaking forehead.

“I wanted it to happen when it felt right. When you felt comfortable. I was still buzzed and you didn’t exactly have an awesome night. And... fuck me....Last thing I wanna do is hurt you.”

Heat bloomed over her cheeks —thank gods for shadows. Somehow, in the time she took to process that, Ben pulled her closer, her body flush against his gleaming skin. His hand—the one not wrapped around her wrist— come up to rest over her hip.

“We can do other things.”

“I don’t need fucking pity.”

“Pity?” And he yanked her hand down, all but grinding her palm against a rock hard bulge.

“This feel like pity? I’m trying to give you time and space... Be a fucking good guy. You have any idea how hard it was to leave that night?”

She was the one to close the distance between them now, lifting up on her toes and him haunching over in that awkward angle, low enough for her tobrush her lips over his jaw.

The words flashed in her mind.

**_Sometimes I like it when it hurts._ **

She thought she heard _“oh my fucking god”_ before she lost herself in the onslaught of his kiss.

****

**_Then_ **

Rey thought his hand shook on the steering wheel. Or maybe it was her, who could tell at this point? He’d dragged her to his car—more like he walked really fast, and since he hadn’t let go of her wrist, she all but ran to keep up.

Ben reclaimed her hand as soon as he buckled his seatbelt, not letting go as if afraid she’d change her mind. No words as he maneuvered Chandrilla’s empty streets, excruciatingly careful despite nobody being out at midnight. He only let her have her hand back when he stopped the car.

Then he was opening her car door and all but lifting her out, and she huffed out a laugh when he hoisted her into his arms and sprinted with her up the stairs.

Somehow he maneuvered opening the lock, getting them in, disposing of their gym bags. Next thing Rey knew, she leaned back on his bed, largehands fumbling on her leggings.

“Ben... I.. Should shower first.”

“Please god, Rey, I don’t give a fuck.” To prove his point, his pushed his face between her thighs, taking a long inhale. “Fuck, you smell good. Holy fuck. Can I please taste you.”

“Ben—“

“Please baby?”

She nodded, her throat dry, and he nearly ripped the fabric down her body then pushed his face into the junction between her thighs, those huge hands urging her to open, giving him room to settle in and... taste.

That’s all he did. For all the intensity of getting her there, he moved slow, licking delicious torturous paths over her heat.

“Gods baby. You taste so fucking good. Been fucking dreaming of this pussy.”

She could’ve come from that voice alone.

“Look at me baby. I want to see your face.”

And she bit back a scream when he gently spread her folds, pushed up and... blew, fucking blew a cool stream of air on her exposed clit.

Exquisite.

“Don’t fucking look away.”

Was his voice always that low? With trembling arms, Rey managed to push herself up on her elbows to find that intense gaze.

And gasped at the intrusion of a long digit inside her. “Good girl.Look at me.” She was nearly there, unable to drag in a breath as a he slid a finger inside her, slow and searching, finding that one perfect spot.

“That’s it? Right there?”

Two fingers now, stretching her open, that dark bottomless gaze locked with hers as he lowered his head and put his mouth on her clit.

So sharp. So beautiful, the sensation near painful. The pressure built, his fingers keeping that slow rhythm, his lips wrapped around that pulsing bundle of nerves.

“Don’t—“ she managed and arched her back because she was so... so close, “Don’t let me come.”

And even as her entire soul convulsed in process, she shoved herself higher on his bed. “Not yet, okay?”

“I want to,” he whispered, so sweet and pleading, as if she just deprived him of a treat.

“It’s... worse if a girl is all swollen.”

He didn’t argue—not like her previous encounter who tried to mansplain how her body worked. Instead, he crawled up over her to brush his lips over her mouth.

“Will you let me later?”

She squirmed against him, thighs cradling his body, the weight of him an anchor in this swirl of chaotic bliss.

“Yeah.” She barely could draw in a breath. “Condom?”

“Fuck. Yeah.” And he was off her in a flash, disappearing into the darkness, the coolness of the air caressing her flesh and spilling goosebumps on her skin.

**_Don’t leave me in the dark._ **

Then he was back, gorgeously, beautifully naked.

“You got too many clothes on.”

Because her hands shook so damned much, she managed what she hoped was a haughty looking eyebrow lift. “You gonna do something about that?”

“You got a mouth on you,” he growled and yanked her tshirt off, her sports bra with it. “Have I mentioned it’s fucking hot?”

Then he just stopped. Stared. She nearly made a crack about small things and good packages when—

“God, you’re fucking perfect. Look at these perfect little tits. You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He stretched out beside her, skin to naked skin.“I’m gonna fucking come all of them. Okay?”

When? Now? She nearly panicked. Except she felt him nudge her entrance,her thighs opening more and... fuck he was big, the head of him already stretching just on this side of hurt. Except she would push through it, she always did, she liked the pain and—

“What are you doing?” Rey didn’t realize she gasped the words until she felt herself rolling, her frame tucked safe and warm against the hard planes of his chest. Now she was the one on top.

He was the one so fucking perfect.

“Take it,” he whispered, “as slow as you need.” and with trembling thighs, she lifted up, aligned herself so their bodies matched. And slowly let herself sink down.

Heat. Burn.

“Slow down, baby. Take.. FUCK! Take your time.” He could’ve encircled her entire waist with those large hands, so gentle on her skin, so reverent as he stroked her sides while she let herself slide down lower.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. That’s right, baby, glide down. Holy fuck, Rey. You feel amazing.”

She tortured them both by pushing up only to start the descent over. Again, taking more of him this time, until she worked her way all the way down, his pubic bone putting delicious friction on her clit.

“That’s it, Sunshine.” Did he know what his voice did to her? “All the way.”

Those large warm hands caressed her waist, cupped her breasts, rolled her nipples between his fingers as she found her rhythm.

“Don’t stop baby.”

As if she ever could.

“Gods, please don’t stop.”

And when he reared up to gently bite her nipple, Rey was.. lost.

She shivered around him,so close to climax, and Ben reared up and slammed his hips into her, sending her tumbling forward so when her orgasm hit, she pushed her face into his chest and sunk her teeth into his skin.

“Oh fuck. Oh Fuck. Oh. Fuck!”

She lay on top of him, completely spent. Boneless.

Trying to slow her breaths.

At some point, she realized his large palm slowly rubbed her back, traveling up and down from her shoulder blades down to her rear. She still lay on partially on top of him—he had moved her so effortlessly and yet so gently off him when he tied off the condom.

The skin under her mouth felt wet—Rey realized she bathed his chest with tears and her own drool and ugh, that was embarrassing and—‘

“Crap.” She had no strength to sit up, especially with his hands tightening on her upper back.

“Where the fuck you think you’re going?”

“Um...I’m sorry.”

“You’re... Why?” That voice, gravel and sweet, soothed some fo the embarrassment away.

“I ...,”she rubbed a weak hand over his chest. “I ah... bit you. There’s a mark. Are you okay? I’m so-”

The mountain under her looked down at his chest with a huge goofy grin. “I’ll fucking get it tattooed. _Rey of Sunshine_. Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Um... We probably need to... “ He looked like he was getting hard again. “Clean up.”

“Yeah.” Then. “Are you okay?”

**_I think I fucking love you._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think after Asshole Kylo, we deserve some Sweet Ben, amirite?
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW//: mention of car accident, injury recovery, drunk driving.
> 
> Thank you to AuroraReylo, Elle and Dr Roslyn for your input!

_**Now** _

“Rey? Customer!”

Of course she hadn’t slept, pacing the floor and wondering what in hell possessed her. Of course her back ached like a fucker. Of coursethe pain pills sat like lead inside her stomach because she once again forgot to eat.

Why eat when you can go all self destructive and break into your famous ex boyfriend’s hotel room? Why eat when you... gods, she couldn’t even think about last night and what she did.

Should she call and apologize? Or hell, send him a bouquet of flowers? Daisies, her mind supplied, and despite everything, Rey snorted as she cleaned the oil off her hands.

Manic laughter was much preferable to crying. She’d done plenty of that last night. She purged the anger, right? She told him, at least some of it, in no uncertain terms, and treated him...

The same way Ben had treated her. Taking advantage of his weak spots, his kinks and desires, and shredding him on the alter to her anger.

Maybe she should’ve called. Or texted. He had some shred of decency to check on her, shouldn’t she do the same?

_**I’m not running after you again.** _

_**You never did.** _

She cracked her back and ashed the words.

Last night, buried in ice cream that still roiled in her gut, Rey didn’t pick up when Finn had called. She also didn’t delete the text from Poe listing the names of counselors he recommended she should talk to.

How’s that for progress?

With the rag still in her hand and angry female voices telling everyone to fuck themselves (her turn on Spotify), she walked with a stiff gait into the front office and... froze.

Snoke.

The rage she was supposed to have excised last night enflamed her veins, although if she was honest, Snoke really wasn’t the cause. Just a catalyst for an inevitable resolution.

**_I’m not running after you again._ **

**_You never did._ **

No, crap, she didn’t need this. Especially not now, under that onyx all-seeing gaze. Somehow he looked the same, although even back then, the only thing alive on that wizened face had been the eyes. Cold obsidian eyes, accessing her from her toes to her hair. She never did measure up.

**_I’m not running after you again._ **

**_We’ll see._ **

“What’s that young Rey? I couldn’t hear.”

She twisted just enough for her back to crack again.

“Mr. Snoke.” She wouldn’t let on how much her pulse hammered inside her head, this ridiculous feeling of being caught, trapped, hunted. And because she couldn’t shake the sensation off, she reached for the comfort of a hefty wrench and wished for her cane.

She never did bring that thing to the shop, not since she’d finally convinced Chewie she could do more then desk duty.

“Do you have a few minutes to chat? I’d love to see how you’ve been doing.”

She could’ve said ‘no’ of course. She could’ve just turned around, shrugged him off. She could’ve cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows at Chewie who was already leaning back against the doorjamb of his office, hairy arms crossed over his chest.

“Sure. I was ready for a break.”

Snoke gave her a flat-lipped smile and gestured for them to step outside the shop and most likely, away from prying ears.

His Lexus shone sleek and black under the morning light, the driver/bodyguard standing military straight beside it.

“How have you been, young Rey?” He asked once they were both out in the sunshine, him huffing in distaste before he settled into one of the chairs they kept for customers.

She’d have to fumigate that later.

“Peachy, thank’s for asking.”

Polite with just a hint of sarcasm. As usual, she couldn’t quite put her finger why he made her both nervous and enraged. “And yourself?”

“I can’t complain,” he said, looking up at the morning sky as if pretending to enjoy the view. Just two people having a conversation. “You seem to have recovered well. If I remember right, there was a question if you would walk again.”

The bodyguard/chauffeurgave her a strange look and stepped forward, and only then Rey lowered the wrench she didn’t realize she had held up.

“You remember right.”

“What you did... took tremendous strength. I’ve always admired that about you. Your grit.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Even to this day, despite the money, you still work three jobs.”

“Surgeries are expensive.” And what meager amount had been left she poured into Resistance despite Finn and Poe’s protests, determined to at least have something good come out of the misery that had become her life.

“Of course. I’m sorry if it was painful. Seeing Kylo again.”

She didn’t want to think about Ben. Kylo, damnit. Of course Snoke knew about them, probably from the moment she stepped foot into that beautiful hotel room. He always knew everything, and the icy revulsion of him controlling Ben like that wasn’t a new sensation.

Not her business, Rey reminded herself. It was always Ben’s choice. Kylo’s damnit. He was Kylo now.

“I don’t mean to make you nervous dear,” Snoke said that in a way that implied he was delighted by that fact. Rey didn’t realize she gripped the wrench in bloodless fingers until the driver/bodyguard frowned and took a closer step.

Snoke waved him off with a dismissive flick of his hand, as ifshe wasn’t a threat, as if she were less then nothing.

“Why are you here Mr. Snoke?”

“Does one need a reason to catch up with an old friend?”

“We aren’t friends.”

The laugh that accompanied the answer set her teeth on edge.

“I dare disagree. We both care deeply about Kylo. We both have his best interests at heart. You must know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for him.“

“Does he know?” The words came out before she could stop them. “About the money?”

“Of course.” A small shrug, as if that first year of surgeries and pain was nothing but a nuisance. “I didn’t feel it was my place to tell him why, of course. And I must say, I half expected you to guilt him back. This type of unselfishness is remarkable to see. The way you put his life above yours? The way you so intrinsically understood what he needs?“ He flicked a floating leaf off his lapel, a gold ring winking at her from a gnarled and twisted middle finger. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for him.”

“That’s it? You came here to thank me?” Somehow Rey doubted that. The sick feeling in her gut wouldn’t abate, and she refused to press a hand against her belly to show even the smallest weakness.

“I understand you gave Kylo a new song. Does that mean you’re still writing?“

She frowned at that. “I didn’t—“

“I’m afraid I had to reject it. Don’t get me wrong, the song itself had bones. Not for the Knights of Ren — too emotional... too female if you forgive the term.”

Those sly eyes dared her to challenge him.

“You would do well selling this type of content to female fronted bands.”

“I didn’t give him a new song. And I don’t feel like being sued for breach of contract.” Because when she had signed the copyright away. the exclusivity clause didn’t matter as much as as the staggering piles of medical bills.

“No shame in admitting you’re trying to get back in. Kylo hasn’t been accepting of new material, and what he does consider doesn’t seem to resonate. Not nearly as much as what we’ve modified from you creations.” He said that grudgingly, and Rey couldn’t help the brief and shining surge of satisfied pride.

“That song you gave him doesn’t fit his brand, but there’s no question how well he does with your material.”

“You... want me to write for him?” She broke off then corrected herself. “For Knights of Ren? That’s why you’re here?“

“If you’re interested, yes. You obviously still have the grip on the emotion, the rawnes Kylo brings to life. What you don’t have is understanding of his current target market, nor the evolution of his sound.”

She never did finish college. Not the Engineering degree, not a certification of Music Production. And still she didn’t need higher education to call bullshit.

“I... don’t understand what you’re getting at.” Actually, she wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but nothing good ever came out of her letting loose with her emotions.

“I invested in a local club—C.Bright. You may have heard of it? The Knights are headlining. Why do you come to the soft opening tomorrow and get a feel for what they play. Their audience, their look, their current sound.”

He watched her as a snake watches a bird, so still, so predatory.

“You want me write songs.” She said slowly, as if trying the words out on her tongue. “And to do that, you want me to watch him perform. Live. At the opening. ” Was this some type of a sick joke?

“Yes, dear.” He stood up, this old man that had a strange oppressive sort of power. “Surely you would’ve gotten over your phobia by now?”

**_I’m not running after you again._ **

**_We’ll see._ **

“Why did you let him come back, after all these years?” Stupid, so stupid to reveal a vulnerability. As if she waited. As if she counted the freaking days. As if she froze in this shell of a life and was finally thawing in the sunshine.

**_I’m not running after you again._ **

Maybe Poe was right, she needed a professional to talk to.

“Are you working on a new song dear? That’s excellent.” He watched her with those flat accessing eyes. “Kylo is at the crossroads. He needs to compare where he came from and what he has become. Confront his past and—I hope—make the right choice for his future.” He ran a hand over his scalp, his gold rings glinting in the sunshine. “I hope to see you at the opening—my assistant will reach out to confirm.” He didn’t address exactly how his people knew her contact info. “And dear,” his gaze swept over her, up and down, stained coveralls and grease smears on her hands. “I realize it’s no longer my business, but please see if you can get a bit cleaned up?”

****

He woke up on the floor, his neck and back already groaning.

_You’re not young anymore, Kid._

As if he needed that voice in his ear.

The pounding in his head wasn’t undeserved,but... fuck. It was the door.

A second later the locks clicked—probably one the roadies—and Kylo groaned when lights spiked in his eyes.

“At least you didn’t bust the walls.”

She looked ancient, but then again, Maz always had been old.

“Turn off the lights,” he managed, and then added, “please,” because that’s what you said when you were miserable and the person you addressed once changed your diapers.

“That girl all right?”

He frowned. “Who?”

“Rey.”

“Fuck.” He groaned at the name, last night coming back in vivid memory: the way she cut him down, stripped him of every shred of pride until he had nothing left but fucking Ben. Drinking himself into a stupur, Hux and Phasma leaving for a party after he yelled at both of them about not producing shit. The rest of the night spent with DarkSider and his boards, pawing through the fucking boxes of Ben Solo’s shit and Rey’s napkins and notebooks.

He hated everything he had came up with on his own.

Then again, he hated what she has reduced him to. Or maybe, it was in him all along, this whining weak assed bitch pining for the cruel goddess.

“Get up boy. If not for me, for coffee.”

And at those words of dry voiced mercy, Kylo pried his eyelids open to see that Maz had rolled in a small cart. The smell hit him then, the unmistakeable scent of decent coffee, which she poured into two delicate looking cups.

“I know your Rey,” she said as she killed her coffee with cream and sugar. “Girl worked here for years.”

“She isn’t mine,” he muttered, and since he was still half naked , Kylo pulled on Ben Solo’s old Vader tshirt he’d left on the floor.

Too tight around his frame, the cheap drape of fabric smelling of her. He took a hit of coffee just to drown out that scent, the bitter taste dissolving the images from last night, the way she rose up above him, the way she angled her staff as a weapon.

She left him. She fucking disappeared. And now she had the fucking gall to say he was the one who didn’t come back?

Too tired, too aching, too fucking heartsick, he pushed the thought away and concerned on not scalding his fucking mouth with coffee.

“That girl never had a spec of trouble. Working herself to death if you ask me.“

“Well she shouldn’t fucking have to. You ask her why? You ask her why she fucking chose—“

“Sounds like you need to ask yourself.”

Too early to argue with a pounding head. And honestly, what was the point? He all but begged last night and all she had for him was fury? For what? Not coming back to let her stomp all over him again?

Maz watched him with knowing and cool eyes. “You should have more respect for you work,” she said and nodded at the napkins and notebooks spread out on the floor, some of the pages trampled on, some of the dried DarkSider having blurred the ink. A metaphor if he ever saw one.

“It’s trash,” he muttered and poured himself another cup, the china smooth firm under his hand.

Like Rey had been. Smooth and firm and furious, ripping feelings from him he hasn’t had in years, making him weak again, stripping him of everything he worked so hard to build.

Well she could be fucking angry at herself for throwing him away.

Silent, Mazdrank her coffee, as if this was some sort of breakfast date. Since she didn’t look in a hurry to leave, Kylo ignored her as he mixed his protein powder, the taste of chalk and something pretending to be vanilla churning his stomach.

“You ought to eat real food,” she said, as if somehow that was important.

“Is she working today?”

“Who?”

“You know who I mean. Rey.”

A shrug of those ancient shoulders, coke bottle glasses glinting in the sun. “Girl asked for two weeks off. I’m assuming you’re the reason?”

“Yeah.”

Good. Fucking excellent. No way for him to accidently see her. No way for Ben Solo o get down to his fucking knees and beg.

Angry that he didn’t come back? Fuck his fucking life.

_I came back every time, Kid._

Fuck that, like he needed that reminder, and the guilt that seeped in with it.If she wanted him back, she’d have answered her damned phone at least fucking once.

“Probably best,” Maz said and interrupted the increasing spiral. “Anymore damage, I don’t care how much of this place you own, I’d kick your emo ass out of there.”

“I signed everything to First Order.” Kylo didn’t know why heblurted that out. Hell, he shouldn’t have said anything at all, but now he couldn’t take it back. “Feel free to kick my emo ass out any time.”

He couldn’t look this ancient woman in the eye.

“Why?”

He didn’t expect the simple one word question. He had expected accusations, disappointment. A lecture about squandering his inheritance, being careless with the legacy Padme left her descendants. Nobody talked about Anakin’s part in any of that.

“So that everything I earn is mine, and not seeded from Skywalker Organa money.”

That’s bullshit, Kid.

Maz finished off the coffee. Stood. And gave him a surprisingly kind smile. “I better polish off my resume since the majority owner will probably take charge of this place in a year.”

He froze.

No.

No that couldn’t be.

Not possible.

“Mom?” He said finally and hated how his voice came out.

And though he deserved every cutting word, Maz answered softly, if without pity. “It’s back. You would’ve have known if youbothered to call.”

Neither of them said a thing when he hurled the near-empty glass of protein shake into shatterproof glass.

***

Rey buried herself in engine parts since busy hands led to best thinking.

Maybe Finn had been right and she hadn’t been fair. Deceptive, was the word he’d used back then, but that meant the same thing. Nevertheless, she stood by her decision.Even now, after seriously unhealthy angry sex, she still thought it was for the best. Except...

“You want to talk about it?” Massive hairy legs—did Chewie only wear shorts?—came closer where she was laying under the Falcon’s engine.

“Really not.” But since he was there and her back already ached, she said, “Pass me the hydro sparemends?”

Of course he shoved her the wrong ones, and she waited for him to poke around for a minute, the words on the tip of her tongue and yet unable to come out.

“Hey Chewie?”

He grunted in response and shoved her the right tool just as Rey rolled out. “Ever feel like you need to do something you have a real bad feeling about?”

He snorted, “All the time. ”

Since she really didn’t want to continue this line of conversation, Rey rolled back under the engine.

“What’s this about, Kid?”

Even after all these years she still got a kick hearing him say that. Kid. Same as when Maz browbeat her into eating.

She tested the motivator.

**_I’m not running after you again._ **

**_You never did._ **

She cracked her back and gathered up her courage.

“Ever step back from someone because you thought they would be better off?”

He shuffled a bit. “Yeah.”

That wistful note his voice had her rolling back out again from under the Falcon. She must’ve really looked a sight when Snoke drove off for Chewie to ask her to work on his most prized possession.

“My best friend.” he waved a mitt-sized hand at the Falcon, “Settled down, had a kid. Then every time he and his wife had words—and they had real screamers—he would run off and pull a stupid stunt. Like we were still in our twenties.

She followed that line of thinking. “So you figured you were a bad influence?”

“I figured if wasn’t around to back him up, he would think twice.” 

Not exactly what she had done, but the same sentiment. “What happened?”

More shuffling.“He seemed to mellow, so I stayed away. Then he got some wild hair to go after his kid—talk about trouble—and called me up to ask me to go with him. I refused, told him it was between him and the boy, especially the kid hated me showing up whenever they had trouble.

“Kid is some kind of deal, movie star or something. Both of them hot heads, both of them drinking that night. Next thing I hear, kid got onto his Harley, Han of course had to chase him. Kid got banged up but came out fine.Han...”he paused and rubbed a hand over his beard. “Didn’t make it.”

She didn’t speak for the moment, processing.

Neither did Chewie.

**_I’m not running after you again._ **

**_You never did._ **

“He left you the garage?”

“More like his wife dumped in me—probably to punish me with all the paperwork he never bothered doing. Same with the Falcon. She couldn’t look at it once he was gone.”

She rubbed her arms and picked up the wrench, the same one she had clutched when Snoke was here. “What would you do if you could take it back? Would you go with him?”

“Maybe. Or, if I stuck around, he’d probably have gotten himself in worse shit with the Hutts.”

Rey tensed, but since she was under the car, he didn’t notice.

“No second chance in life, Kid.”

She poked at the converterin the stretched out silence, not sure what else to say or do. Her back twinged, just enough to remind her she’d been stupid yesterday. In more ways then one.

She really should’ve called Ben. Checked on him.

No second chance with death, but this?

Maybe Finn was right. She hadn’t been fair, and despite best intentions, she had manipulated Ben same as Snoke would’ve done.

**_I’m not running after you again._ **

**_You never did._ **

Maybe this wasn’t therapy, but it felt like a breakthrough. She could hole up in her apartment for a nice good cry.

“Kid, why don’t you take a break?”

“I”m fine—“ But then she changed her mind. “Actually, you mind if I cut out early? And maybe take a day tomorrow?”

Something jingled and dropped on the concrete beside her. When she rolled out, Rey picked up a key attached to golden dice.

“All this got me thinking the Falcon hadn’t been out for a while. Think you can test the sparements and take it on a drive?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your incredible emails and kudos!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:// anxiety; angry sex
> 
> Thank you to AuroraReylo, Dr Roslyn and Elle for their input!

Then

Before he crashed into her life, Rey thought she knew about garlic. What she didn’t know was how good it smelled when sizzling in oil on a heated pan. She also didn’t know what it was like to have somebody cooking when one entered a home, a real home, not a place to crash, but somewhere people made food, cleaned up, watered their plants.

She loved plants. Loved that he got them for her. She loved that he cooked, and she especially loved it when he cooked wearing nothing but his _kiss the chef_ apron.

So Rey smiled as she closed the door behind her, taking her shoes off — apparently people did that too so not to track in dirt—when she heard the crash.

Something shattered, something clanged, but what had her wincing was the furious litany of curses. And since it wasn’t the first time she had come home to that, Rey took a cleansing breath and pocketed his keys. 

She came into the kitchen just in time to see him bang his head into a wall.

“Hey.”

He didn’t look at her.

“Ben.”

Nothing.

She sidestepped the spilled oil and garlic and the pan face down on the floor. His phone lay somewhere in the middle of the puddle.

“You gonna cry over spilled milk?”

“I’m going to the gym.”

He tried to move around her, but she was ready.“Not like this.”

“Rey.”

Was it wrong that the dark dangerous voice made her shiver?

“Ben.” She threw it back to him, her tone flat, resolute. “Your ass isn’t going anywhere. Not like this.”

“You don’t want to be near me right now.”

“You threatening me Solo?”

He pushed his fingers through his hair and stepped back, all but stepping on his phone. “I need to not be here.“

Calm, she needed to stay calm. Both of them ticked off would lead to things she wasn’t yet ready to explore.

“You get into another fight at the gym, your uncle will have all the reasons to kick you out.”

“HE. ALREADY. FUCKING. DID.”

Fist met wall, the fury so intense, Rey nearly stepped back, then almost reached out to touch him. But no, he hated being touched when angry. Or rather, he hated himself.

“All right,” she said, although she knew that wasn’t the right tactic. The calmer she became more volatile he would get. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe you could go to the Dean...”

“He’s the last fucking Skywalker! You think what I say will matter to the Dean?”

“Your mother?“

“She always fucking takes his side. You’re lucky you don’t have a family.” He was this close to screaming it in her face, and Rey took in the words despiteher heartbeat racing in her ears.

Since this was about his pain, his family issues, she let the hurtful words go, at least for now.

“I”m ... Fuck. I need to get the fuck out of here.”

“Not like this Ben.”

“I really don’t want to be around you right now.”

Of course not. Everyone always left.

She bit her cheek and squared her shoulders.

**_Don’t leave me here._ **

He held out a huge trembling hand. “Give me my keys.”

“You’re not driving.”

“Give me the fucking keys, Rey.” So low, so dark and dangerous. She wasn’t supposed to get turned on by this.

**_Don’t leave me here._ **

“No.”

“Rey.” Soft. Deceptively calm when she was the one ready to strike out in this heady mix of arousal and hurt and pain. “Give me,” rough fingers closedjust above her wrist. “my fucking keys.”

It would’ve been easy enough to twist away, or better yet, to deck him.

“Make me.” She whispered and as his eyes grew dark, Rey bent her elbow just enough so that the point could push him back.

Air left her lungs at the resulting growl. His mouth, hot and rough and heavy crashed on hers, teeth nipping, the hand locked in her nape holding her motionless against the onslaught of his lips.

“Tell me stop,” he snarled against her neck and closed his teeth over her tendon. “Tell me to fucking stop.” Bruising kisses on her throat, the hand in her hair forcing her head back.

“Don’t you. Fucking. Stop,” she managed between gasps, and wrapped her thighs around his torso when he hoisted her up, pinned her against the wall, ravaged her skin with that punishing mouth.

“I’ll hurt you. ” No idea if this was a promise or a threat. She loved it either way, loved the way his voice whipped over her.

“What makes you think,” Rey sank her teeth into his neck, “that I won’t hurt you back?”

Rough hands pulled down her jeans, fingers biting into her hips, and she barely had time to nod in answer to the silent question before he plunged into her heat, so hard, so fucking punishing. So savage. She groaned into his mouth, couldn’t help but scream clenching around the merciless thrusts of his cock.

“God damnit. God damnit Rey. So fucking wet. Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect. This what you wanted? A hard fuck?”

She probably looked obsene, spread wide with his huge hands gripping her thighs, and she’d probably be bruised tomorrow, but she fucking loved it.

Her head banged against the wall, back slamming in the drywall with eachthrust, each rough plunge nudging her toward release by the sheer brute force of his hips snapping into her.

“Fuck, baby. Fuck me. Fuck Rey.” His mouth at her neck, skin slick, Ben’s rhythm quickened, and even as the storm coiled in on itself, his grip on her thighs tightened. With a low groan against her skin, he shoved her hard against the wall and emptied into her.

Then he was gone, leaving her to slide down the cool drywall on unsteady legs while he stared at her in horror,hands all but ripping through his hair. And even as herknees threatened to buckle, Rey knew, she fucking knew, what she did next would define everything else.

“Fuck. Fuck my fucking life,” she heard him wheeze, and despite her own trembling limbs, she managed to push herselfonto one ofthe kitchen chairs and pull both knees against her chest. Spreading herself open to his gaze.

“Where the fuck you think you’re going?” Venom she didn’t feel dripped in her voice. When those dark haunted eyes snapped back to her, slowly, deliberately, Rey licked her index finger. “You owe me an orgasm.”

“I..... Rey...”

For a moment, she thought maybe she pushed too far. Ben didn’t move a muscle, his shoulders haunched, those glistening eyes fever bright as he followed the circling movement of her hand.

“You came,” she said with boldness he had to know was fake. “I didn’t.” With that, she slid her own finger inside herself.

One second.

Two.

Eternity.

She was afraid to lift her gaze.

“You. Want. To. Come.” He said that slowly, as if she was idiot, as if he was reaffirming she had the gall to say those words. Would he call her a slut? Would he think her some sort of a sick pervert, dripping on the chair after he angry fucked her on the wall?

She didn’t stop moving her fingers.“I want to come,” she said, her voice softer then she intended. “You owe me that much.”

He still didn’t move, and the nerves fluttering in her belly finally broke through. “It’s fine. You don’t have to-“

“Poor Scavanger didn’t come.” And in a blur of motion, he fisted the collar of his shirt and ripped it off, knowing, fucking knowing, exactly what the sight of that muscular body did to her.

Then he surrounded her, thick arms around her torso, his chest right where she could see her mark him tattooed over his heart. Rey of Sunshine, in a gothic script, with sun rays coming out from the now healed bite marks.

“My poor Scavenger,” he crooned, that voice tender and deadly, large hands coming to rest over her palms. “Do you deserve to come?”

And just like that, arousal coursed with new life inside her strumming body.

She tipped her head up and was rewarded with a kiss, his lips barely brushing against hers, making her chase him.

“I don’t think you earned it,” he murmuredand tangled his hand in her hair, forcing her neck to arch in pleasure pain. “But maybe if you ask me nicely.” He licked a spot under her ear and laved it with his tongue as she futely tried to regain the friction where his hand held hers captive.

“Spread that sweet pussy for me baby,” he murmured, and once again, feathered an almost kiss against her mouth. “There you go. Poor needy little cunt.” Teeth gently scraped over her tendon as two fingers gently slid into her heat, his thumb teasing her just above, the raw sensation an electric shock rippling through her bloodstream.

“Spread that sweet cunt,” he growled when her hands went slack from pleasure, “I wanna see it. I wanna watch you gush over my hand.“

Except he didn’t let her come. Every time she he nudged her to the very pinnacle, every time her moans changed into breathless gasps, he’d pull away to tease her outer lips, to squeeze them between his fingers, to smirk at her groans of frustration when he squeezed her thighs.

“Ben. Please.”

That dark chuckle alone could’ve sent herover the edge.Then again, he always knew just how far to push her. Two long thick fingers slid inside her again, merciless rhythmic strokes against that perfect spot and even as she screamed and clenched around him, he whispered how perfect she was, how beautiful she looked when she came apart, how much he loved seeing her, how much he loved her.

Later, she draped herself over his chest, their bed a safe haven. He must’ve carried her because Rey had no idea how she’d gotten there. For now, unsure of what say, she simply tucked her face into his neck.

“Hey. You okay?” That low rumble under her both excited and comforted her senses.

Did he think less of her? Was she perverted getting off when he was clearly upset?

“Rey? Baby. Say something.”

“I ... I’m sorry.”

The tremble under her was a soft, unbelieving snort followed by tightened arms when she tried to get up.

“Rey...I fucking attacked you like a fucking monster.“

“I loved it.” she mumbled in his chest, and then because she coudln’t help herself, “Do you think I’m... a deviant?”

The short bark of a laugh had her looking up at him from under a curtain of hair.

“A deviant,” he shook his head and gently tucked the brown locks behind her ears. “The way you fucking talk. Yes, you’re a deviant. A fucking pervert. Hottest fucking pervert I’ve ever known. Thank fuck.”

Later, with hair damp from the shower, she watched from that same kitchen chair(Ben put up quite a grumble when she insisted cleaning that thing up) as he scrubbed the oil, onion, and garlic from the tile.

“Just start,” he huffed, but this time, with no anger.

“You better hurry cause it’s getting cold,” she said and he only raised her eyebrows when her stomach growled. “I said I’m not starting without you. I meant it.”

Which was a good way to get him to scrub harder.

“You should fight it,” she finally said around a mouthful of pizza, pineapple for her half, spicy sausage for his.

Those eyes, still hurt, but calm and clear now, bore into hers. “The Dean won’t go against Skywalker money.”

**_Let the past die._ **

“So go around that. ” She covered his hand with hers and squeezed his palm because she really, really, wanted to slug his bloody uncle.

**_Let the past die._ **

**_Hear the monster cry._ **

“I mean look, I don’t know much about families... “

**_Kill it if you have to._ **

**_Your world is a lie._ **

Silent, long used to the interspersed whispers between words, he handed her a sheet of paper and pen.

“I just...”

**_Don’t bother to deny._ **

**_There’s no point to try._ **

“I just wish you could figure out how live with with your anger at them.”

She had anger of her own, but they didn’t really discuss it. She really didn’t feel like going in depth into the source of her issues and the underlying cause of her lying with lame excuses every time he had a gig.

He simply nodded instead of closing off, and she scribbled down more words.

“You can still do PoliSci. Or not.“ she raised her hand before he could go off about his mother. “Hire a real studio to train you. We’re two hours fro LA, not butt-fucking Jakku.“

He nodded, thoughtful. “I’ll talk to Snoke.”

She really didn’t like that plan, but then again, she didn’t see a different solution.

“Want me to key Skywalker’s car?”

“I fucking love you.” Then his shoulders shook with sudden laughter. “Can you say butt-fucking Jakku again?”

**Now**

The ride to Naboo Gardens took longer then expected, not because of traffic, but because he chickened out and turned back several times. But since Kylo already had one massive fuck up on the books, he figured he might as well cram all of them into this week of being back in fucking Chandrilla.

He didn’t think of Rey as he eased into traffic, the wind pushing at the leather covering his skin. A fuck you to the accident that wrecked his face, somehow for the better. A fuck you to his father.

A fuck you to Rey.

He sure as hell didn’t want to think of her fucking angry—angry!—all these years because he didn’t come crawling back.

_Ever stop for a minute to ask her why, Kid?_

He knew why. Snoke explained things long ago, although at the time, Kylo couldn’t fathom it would apply to her. Some people couldn’t deal with success, and Rey, with her abandonment issues and insecurities probably thought she was doing him some Karmic favor.

He owed her everything? Well fuck that shit. He could’ve given her everything, a life where she didn’t have to work three jobs just to get by.

_Because your life is so much better?_

DIdn’t sponsors chase his ass to pose with something stupid or another? The worlds most beautiful women vying for his attention? His antics captured on every gossip site?

_Kid. Why you think you’re back here after all this time?_

Another test, just like the one in London, two days after Han’s death. Perform and do your job, or get the fuck off the damned stage.

Snoke’s lessons never had been subtle: The things you’ve given up are stepping stones to where you are. Simple as that.

Which meant, he needed to loosen the fuck up and trust Snoke now to do what’s best for the future.

The opposite of what he was doing here, but Kylo buried that thought as he sped through the freeway exit and into the winding roads of what had been his childhood.

Mansions rose up above the shrubbery as he roared up the street pastgraceful gates and state of the art security systems. And then the statue of Padme—the only thing Anakin created that his mother kept—rose up above the perfect lawns.

Since he was a coward, Kylo parked his bike on the street and punched the call button rather the drive up to the gate like some entitled asshole. Then again, he was no longer the kid whose house this was.

_You’ll always be my kid._

Still shocked that the gates opened, he walked inside, and was thrown back to childhood, the laps around the fountain, playing hide and seek in the orchard behind the house, kicking the gravel after the Falcon left. Wishing for Leia to sing with him when she was done with polls and stats.

Relishing her white faced shock that last time he saw her, telling her she could take his inheritance and shove it up Luke’s ass. If nothing else, he could tell his damned uncle he’d signed everything to First Order and use that as an excuse for being here. Relishing doing this in person, because as Snoke had always said, face to face always worked out best.

_He’s using you Kid._

No point arguing with the dead.

Kylo ran a hand over his scar, the leather glove gliding over the skin Rey slapped just hours prior. In the mirrored glass panels of the double doors, he saw himself, a tall fucker in black. Kylo Ren or Ben Solo? One sniveling weak, the other always angry. Not for the first time, he wondered if the two of them would tear him apart.

You’ll always be my son.

I’ll always be a disappointment,he thought back at that voice, and lifted up a black gloved fist to knock.

Not that he should’ve bothered. The door wrenched open less then a second later, his uncle standing in his graying asshole glory, arms crossed over his skinny chest.

The last of the Skywalkers.

“What are you doing here?”

Same look in those rheumy blue eyes: derision, disappointment.

“I... heard. About Mom.” Kylo Ren would’ve told his uncle to go straight to hell, and yet, the voice that came out was Ben Solo.

“Would’ve heard sooner if you cared about anyone but yourself.”

Ben Solo would’ve flinched. Ben Solo would’ve apologized.

He had to remember that he was Kylo Ren.

“Can I see her?” As if this wasn’t his mother. As if this wasn’t the house he grew up in.

“She is with her doctor. And not well enough for you to piss her off.”

“She’s been pissed off since I was fucking born,” he muttered but withoutheat. Just brutal honesty mixed up with something bitter. “Can I come in?”

There’s Ben Solo again, asking nicely.

But Skywalker shrugged and stepped aside, and there it was, his fucking house, the foyer smaller now that he wasn’t a child, the anique Steinway still gleaming white. Nobody was allowed to touch it unless there was a party.

“Ah, Master Solo.” Some things never changed.Then again, Threepeio ensured everything here functioned smoothly.“What a delight to see you again, sir.”

They all ignored Skywalker’s snort.

“I’d like to see my mother.”

“Sir, I’m afraid...”

“So the prodigital son returns.” Except it wasn’t said with any sort of guilt or sarcasm. Then again, his mother’s personal physical used to give him shots right in the ass. “I just administered your mother’s medication, so I’m afraid she not able to receive visitors right now.”

So... simple. Finite. And served him right for tearing through town just to see her without calling, when he hadn’t spoken to her since...

Well, since Han died.

_Kid._

“I see.”

And if the room breathed in relief because he wasn’t about to throw down a Ben Solo sized shit fit, he couldn’t exactly blame them.

“How bad is it this time?”

The non-nonsense eyes that met his didn’t hold anything back, since Dr Artoor never spared your emotions.He always told the truth, like telling you the shot was gonna hurt, or putting a Superman bandaid on on your arm and holding your hand while you cried even though boys weren’t supposed to.

“It is what it is. We’re fighting of course and your mother is a force of nature.”

They looked at him as people looked at an approaching car wreck, morbid curiosity combined with fear. At least in that, he had accomplished what he had set out to do.

Nobody ever feared Ben Solo.

He left the house without looking back.

_**Then** _

The tray shook in her hands—or maybe it was Rey’s hands that were shaking. She had to put her stupid feelings away and do her job before she spilled another drink.

They’ve fought before of course—normal shite all people fought about. She was a slob. He pushed himself to near exhaustion. Until now, both of them toed the line about their respective mental health.

Social anxiety. Rey had looked up the term when he so casually said that. Social anxiety—so neat, so clean, so short. A clean cut way to delve into her fears of being crushed and smothered to death.

He said he understood... at least the parts she actually told him. She said she understood him too and felt ridiculously fake.

_“Our first real performance. In an arena for fucks stake!”_

All she could think was people. Noise. The crowd. Limbs everywhere, somebody stepping on her hands and feet when she had tried to crawl.

She couldn’t stop picturing his face when she told him she wouldn’t go. At least this time, she didn’t lie and blame a phantom midterm.

Rey nearly called him again—he hated texting, insisting on actual conversations. How many times had she unlocked her phone only to stare at the wallpaper of the two of them?

Smiling. His arm so casual around her waist. Their height difference exaggerated because he held the phone above his head to snap the photo.

It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t stand the crush of people, the sweat, the writing bodies robbing her of air. The looks and whispers now that he was recognized around town, girls with beautiful clothes and bodies throwing long glances their way.

Nobody cares what you wear, he would say,but that was simply shite. Next to her, Ben always looked like he was slumming.

“Ah, young Rey. I was hoping to see you.”

She nearly fumbled the tray.

“Mr Snoke.”

“Just Snoke, please.”

She really didn’t like the way he pulled his lips back for a smile.

“Would you join me?”

“I’d be delighted, thank you.” Did he catch the sarcasm? She never could quite tell.

”How are you classes going?” He asked once she came back with two cups of coffee—extra sweet for her because she coudln’t stand the taste—and sat down across from him. Two men in suits, probably his bodyguards, sat at the next booth down. Rey wasn’t sure if she was flattered or insulted.

”Peachy.”

He didn’t seem put off. “You’re on track to graduate this spring?”

Since something could be said about strategy of not pissing off an enemy before you found out what they wanted, Rey nodded and took a bitter sip.

“I’m glad to hear that. You see, I’m arranging several high profile tours for Kylo.”

When did he start calling Ben that outside the stage?

“We’ll be traveling for nearly a year.I wanted to ensure you’re prepared in case of any conflicts.”

He was leaving? For a year?

They haven’t spoken about that, but then again, they’ve gotten into this weird pattern of avoiding talking about his work, keeping to safer subjects.

When was he going to tell her he was leaving?

“I don’t mean to be rude, but Ben’s travel plants aren’t really my business.” Because if they were, he’d have already brought them up.

Panic was already curling in her veins.

Snoke shook his head, as if she just said something stupid. 

“I need to know if you’ll be joining us. Arrangements like these are made months ahead and since his schedule is free while yours isn’t, I need to know if you’ll be going with us or if you’ll stay behind to finish degree.”

“I... You want me to come with him?”

“Dear, it’s not up to me.”

They wanted her to come to Europe with him?

Relief coursed through her veins. “Of course. I’ll go as well.”

Gods. _Gods!_

Other then that bus drive from Jakku, she’s never been further then LA. Europe? Japan? Places she dreamt about but never thought she’d actually visit.

“Excellent. Then we must discuss arrangements.”

Arrangements. Money? That made sense, they couldn’t cart her arse around for free.

“I won’t be able to afford much but, I’m great at fixing things. I do have almost enough classes for a Production Cert so I can work the equipment and—“

That dry laugh cut off her off. “Delightfully naive, but thank you. Money isn’t the issue here. My investment is.”

She frowned at that, the rush and fall of emotions making her dizzy.

“If I may be completely frank?”

She leaned against the backrest of the booth, crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

“You aren’t exactly what I want for him. This is a business where looks and attitude will make or break you. And you... there’s not much to you, is there now?”

At that, Rey tipped her coffee back way too fast and sputtered, while he watched her with amused disgust. She got a weird sense that if he could choke her with his will, he would have.

“You’re saying I don’t look good enough?”

“I take pride nurturing and protecting my investments. In this case, I nurture and protect Kylo and everything associated with him.”

She didn’t miss him calling her a thing. “Ben, you mean.”

“I didn’t mis-speak.” He shrugged, in a dismissive way that had her hackles rising. “Kylo Ren is a carefully sculpted product, designed for maximum marketability and profit.”

“You speak of him as if he’s a thing.” Both of them ‘things’ now?

“I speak of his brand, and that dear, is where you become the problem.”

Shaky and hating herself for that, Rey made a big production of pouring more creamer in her coffee.

“To put it bluntly, he’ll be laughed out of every venue if he shows up with you,” he waved a hand at her, “looking like that. A huge part of what we’re selling is desire. And if he isn’t going to be bedding down a model every night,” he paused to see if she had something to say there, “you need to step into that part. This way, his male fans have something to covet, and female fans will rush out to emulate.”

“You expect me to dress like a model?”

“I expect you to fill that roll, yes.” Again, he challenged her to disagree.

“I look how I look.”

“And that means you’ll allow yourself to be the weight that drags him down?”

Rey laughed despite the cold dread in her belly. “As if I could.”

So she wasn’t going to the arena. Ben had his own life, his own style, his own way. He didn’t need her as his personal cheer section.

“You already are.” Snoke steepled his fingers and leaned closer, his own coffee untouched. A subtle insult. “You don’t show up for any of his gigs. When you do, you look like death warmed over. If it were up to me, I’d easily replace you with something I can spin into a fantastic marketing piece and get his numbers up.”

“Yes, he continued when she lifted her disbelieving gaze to his. “That’s all this is. Numbers. The more publicity he has, the more he’s recognized, the more money he makes. Then he’ll invest that back into his music and career and forge his own path outside of his family name.”

The hell of it was, Rey understood that.

“What should I do?”

She half expected Snoke to mock her. Instead, his gaze passed over her, from the three buns down to her breasts.

“Your clothes. Your looks. Your figure.” His gaze lingered on her chest. “Technology can make a woman out of cardboard. Right clothes can make a nobody like you a rising star. But surgeries or clothes won’t fix is your overall expression.”

“You’re telling me to.. what? Just suck it up and smile?”

His silence and raised brows were an answer in itself.

“I... can’t go to his gigs.”

“Yes dear, I heard about your little problem.”

_Her little problem._

_Her parents sliding in an out between people._

_Don’t leave, don’t leave don’t leave._

“I can’t do crowds.”

“You also can’t allow your fear to become his burden”

Gods, she hated that word.

Those cool calculating eyes saw over every twitch, every expression on her face.

“You make it sound like a choice.” Was that her voice? So small and shaky?

“Ultimately it is. Your fear vs. his future.”

“Just like that? So easy?”

”Easy?” That dry sarcastic laugh again, as if she blurted out something stupid. “You think it’s easy taking raw potential and molding it into what millions will enjoy?“

The metal bands around her torso hugged her tighter. Almost lover like. Here, let us help, stop breathing for a while.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Those obsidian eyes reminded her that of a snake, watching her, patient and quiet. “Start by getting better clothing.”

She shook her head. “About my problem.” She said that quietly, as if it were her shame.

“There’s therapy for that.”

“Clothes. Therapy. All that costs money.”She hated the sound of her voice, hated that she even admitted her issue was a problem, much less one she had to solve or needed money for.

Ben needed her with him, wasn’t that the endgame?

“Everything costs money, dear. Their new album certainly wasn’t free to produce.”

“I wrote their new tracks. Most of the album.”

“Did you.” Not a question. “And you’re proposing...what exactly? Selling the copyright to your work?”

Was it really that simple? “Yes. Maybe.”

He squinted at her now. “How much do you think your words are worth?”

‘You license content, you tell me. Royalties, usage rights at venues. Here, abroad.”

“And here I thought you were just a simple waitress.” Snoke stood up, his body surprisingly spry for a man his age, moving in a fluid way no human should be. “I’ll have my lawyers put together a proposal. And young Rey,” She lifted her eyebrow at him, somehow thinking he got the upper hand despite her pulling out an ace. “I expect to see more of you from now on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your amazing comments and kudos !


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:// Car Accident, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Self Destructive Behavior 
> 
> Thank you to AuroraReylo, Elle and DrRoslin for their feedback!

**_Now_ **

Since Rose needed less then two minutes to drag out exactly why Rey needed to go shopping, she got raised eyebrows and a bodyguard for the price of a fashion consultant.

_“We’re gonna look sooooo fucking good.”_

And that had been the end—no questions, no recriminations. No _what the fuck are you thinking, Rey_.

And sitting in the Falcon, checking herself out in her phone for the last time, Rey had to admit, she looked damned good.

Eyes? Smoky. The way Rose did her makeup, her pupils seemed to glow gold from within.Lips? Nude, shiny just a dash of gloss, her cheeks a similar blushing color.

When was the last time she had woren makeup?

And with the combat boots snug at her feet, she wouldn’t hate the world as they trudged three blocks through downtown since all the lots around C.Bright had already long filled up.

“You sure you want to do this?” Rose applied another coat of lipgloss.

“Honestly? No.”

She hadn’t counted on his enraged face starting at her from flashing screens lining the lampposts. Black and red stills, loops of him smashing a guitar, crimson lightning through the Knights of Ren logo. More loops of the Knights closing to zoom in on his face, his brows drawn, his eyes feral.

The first time his face shattered into thousands shards of glass, Rey all but caused a pileup.

Luckily Rose hadn’t noticed, and the anxiety of seeing him again, going into a club... the people... outbid her freaking out over a situation too close to her nightmares.

Getting into a car again hadn’t been easy, but then again, nothing ever was.

“You really think you’ll start writing for them again? I mean...” Rose stopped midword and sighed. “I’m being such a bitch. I’m sorry.”

“You are a bitch telling the truth. Thats why I love you. But...”

“But...?” Beside her, Rose fussed with last minute hair tendrils, letting the shiny locks frame her face.

“I don’t know. Gut feeling. This whole thing seems surreal.” Probably due to the never ending loops of Kylo, shirtless Kylo, screaming Kylo, Kylo making out with some chick.

“So why torture yourself? I’m all for an excuse to get us smoking hot, but not if you’re risking passing out.”

“You talked to Poe?”

A roll of those dramatically lined eyes. “Of course.”

And since his timing always was impeccable,Poe’s Escalade pulled up beside them on the dirt overflow lot.

“I’ve never actually passed out at these things.”

Rose gave her a razor sharp smile. “Always a first time.“

But Rey heard the underlying worry.

At least nobody brought up taking medication. She’s had enough in that first year to last her a whole life.

“Has Finn told you everything?”

Rose shrugged. “From what I understand, you asked him not to. Not to say I didn’t piece things together. But any time you want to talk...” Just that. So simple. Her friends showed up simply because she needed them.

Simply. Because.

“Finn says I haven’t been fair, not giving Ben a choice.”

That earned her a snort. “From what I understand, your ‘Ben’,” airquotes, “doesn’t seem worse for wear.”

“Maybe. But if Snoke’s making this some sort of lesson, I need to be there, front and center. I’m his past, like it or not.”

“So you don’t think this is about writing them more songs?” 

Might as well be truthful. “Honestly? No. They got plenty of people. I just...”

She broke off, but Rose caught that. “Gut feeling. I get it.” No comments about them all going simply because of her gut. As if her feelings were enough.

“Well, good for you to be all introspective. Just one thing.” Rose held up a finger. “Anything goes south, I get to kick his ass, celeb or not.”

“Rose?”

“Yeah?” Weary tone, no doubt spoiling for another fight because ‘Rey didn’t want to be a burden’.

“I love you.”

“Right back atcha. Now get the fuck out of the car before we both start crying.”

“You two done gossiping already?” Finn slid out of the passenger seat of the Escalade, Poe rounding to them from behind.

“We _do_ look amazing, thank you so much for noticing,” Rose grumbled, coming around the car in her own version of club wear: a tiny skirt, thigh high boots that propelled her tiny frame above five feet. And unlike Rey’s snug full-sleeved crop top, Rose wore a white tank showing off toned arms. Those arms helped Rey stay up on the bars countless times when she would’ve fallen.

“Flower of flowers,” Finn smacked his lips. “If only I weren’t taken—“ He didn’t finish the sentence due to the loud clap of Poe’s palm on his ass.

The que stretched out across the block, tough girls with lean bodies and stilettos and I-worked-hard-to-look-casual guys. 

“That’s quite the line.”

She looked up at Poe’s note of hesitation and the unspoken question. Would she be allright? Did she make sure to eat something? Was she really going into a club when everything, _everything_ stemmed from the phobia she never could“work out” ?

Gravel crunched under her boots. “I got this.”

If her friends exchanged raised eyebrows as she took the lead, nobody said a word.

She’d made the decision while Rose had curled her hair: she sure as hell wouldn’t be shuffled in the back. If Ben had to confront his past, her ass would be upfront and center.

Hence the makeup. Hence the studded belt. The skin tight jeans that cost more then one weekly paycheck. The attitude would probably be rusty, but as she looked at Ben’s face above her on a screen, that beautiful mouth pulled back in a sneer, she fought to channel rage.

The photogs and the stylists never could capture the right look for a musician’s girlfriend, but now, eight years later, she had walked through fire.

C.Bright pulsed with beats and lights, the base strumming through her veins as if her nerves weren’t enough to send her heartbeat racing. Bodies, voices everywhere. Kylo’s beautiful face haunting her from from every angle, every tshirt. Crimson lightning and glittering rage.

She walked the red mile with the que of excited bodies on one side and vendors with their wares on the other: posters, vinyl records, glow in the dark spinners, water bottles, t-thirsts, t-thirsts, t-shirts.

Ben, shirtless, with tattos of fire on his arms. Ben face, the scar glowing with lightning. Ben and the Knight, their faces twisted with derision, the band logo sharp and silver intertwined with thorns.

Bodies and faces closed in, screaming at her, but no, that was just her, just her idiotic nerves. Nobody crushed her, nobody jostled her, nobody made her fall into the crowd. Everything was okay, everythingwas fine, she walked right past the wave of people, with Finn and Rose flanking her sides, Poe’s presence steady at her back.

Nobody had to know her hands were clammy when she approached the VIP entrance.

“Rey.”

If her friends startled at her sudden Kardashian, their raised eyebrows weren’t her problem. She only hoped her fingers didn’t shake as she pretended to text on her phone while the others dug up their ids.

“Last name?”

“Johnson. I’m on yourlist.” Her back cracked gunshot loud as she shoved her phone around to flash a photo.

The two of them, Rey and Kylo at a publicity shoot that never got released, the photo she dug up for Rose before they shopped for the right outfit.

Kylo’s narrowed eyes judged her from every surface and every screen. Each passing tshirt with his face called her a hypocrite.

“Just says one Ray,” the bouncer muttered, his shirt a simple black with nothing but the logo of the club. “No guests.”

“You expect me to show up solo?” Since nobody gave a bloody shite about the irony,she all but shoved her phone into the poor man’s face. “I’ll just stand here and you can check with Kylo. Because he’s sooo sweet and understanding right before a gig.“

More people surged into her space, more body heat, more laughter.

Between Finn’s size and Rose’s glower, the crowd backed off so she could breathe again.

“Fine, Ms Johnson, here.” A neon blue bracelet was shoved at her hand, probably harder then was needed, but she no doubt asked for that. “Booths are reserved but there’s plenty open seating still. Enjoy your night and—“

“Backstage passes?” She snapped the band onto her wrist and pushed the rest at Finn.

“Excuse me?”

The lightning on the screen above showered Ben’s face with sparks.

“Where are the backstage passes?”

“Says nothing here.”

She could’ve pulled out more rude. With Ben—no Kylo, she had to think of him as Kylo, mocking her, calling her a fucking a hypocrite from every screen and tshirt—she coudln’t keep up the charade, despite hoping to see him before this whole thing started. “Could you just let him know I’m here?”

And with her eyes back to her phone—a proper celeb move, but really because she couldn’t stand the faces glaring at her, Rey forced herself to walk past the black doors into a sea of red.

Crimson lights.

Maroon sofas.

Blood colored bottles on the mirrored walls, the color spilling on the floor, the bar, the scattered tables. Booths grouped on one end, mosh pit by the elevated stage. Chrome and black accents pulsed with laser lights, the stage screens looping more images of Ren, flying shattered glass, him and a ginger headed man shouting at each other, him and a woman with black and white hair locked in deep kiss, her crimson nails following the scar under his eye.

The memory of the last time Rey had seen that girl all but flashed through her eyes, but a crack of her back took care of that.

Already smoke and sweat permeated the still cool air although it woudln’t be too long before the place got hot.

“Hey... uh. Peanut?”

She tore her gaze away from Kylo’s features.

“I know you’re supposed to be hot shit, but BFDs don’t show up early.”

“Bite me,” she grumbled but couldn’t help but breathe easier at his snort. Maybe she wouldn’t see Ben... Kylo damnit before the show, but this was okay too. Maybe better even, so she could get used to the space. The people.

And if a part of her asked who in hell she was kidding, she cracked her shoulder at that too.

“Prime real estate.” She barely heard Poe through the growing buzzing in her head as they were directed to an elevated space of tables behind a velvet rope. Black of course, chained to chrome stands that could’ve easily doubled as weapons.

Not in the back, so that at least was something. Not in the front, not by the stage, but close enough. If she found the nerves for it, she’d force herself to saunter close.

Who was she kidding? Even the thought had her limbs icing up. Hopefully she’d pulled off the attitude enough for them to tell him she was here.

If not? She’d find another way. And then? Rey didn’t know, but somehow it seemed right to be here. Despite the bad feeling in her gut, despite the low grade tightness in her chest, this just... seemed right.

The music, a low pounding base, pulsed in time with the acid in her belly. A part of her wished for her cane, if only for the grounding feeling something that would push people away, although she’d be laughed out of the club.

Besides, she didn’t need his pity.

“Might as well get something before the bar fills up.“ She read Finn’s lips rather then heard him, and he pushed through the influx of beautiful people before she could utter a word.

She should’ve freaked out watching him disappear through the growing crowd. She tracked his movements to the bar and didn’t scream when she lost him among those deep flashes of red.

Okay.

_Okay._

She could do this. She had no idea what this was, but somehow it was vital to be here. If Snoke banked on her phobia winning, he could just kiss her terrified but present ass. And if Ben needed to see his past, it past time she showed him something worthy.

This time, Rey woudln’t be alone.

****

“You ready?”

“Just fucking get it over with.”

The first three punches got his abs—where the vest wouldn’t cover up the marks Hux’s knuckles left him. The others rained over over his chest and arms, where the marks and scuffs would blend with the black and red ink. The shot of DarkSider both dulled the pain and amplified the rage the punches should have brought him.

And if a part of him wished Rey got a few good ones with her staff, he kept that to himself.

“Going soft in your old age?”

“Says the bastard turning thirty one.” And to prove his point, Hux punched again, the fucker surprisingly fast with those deceptively lean limbs.

It’s been a while since the punches roiled his blood the way they used to. Then again, wasn’t that the point of drying up?

“Where’s Phas?”In the mirrors above the caffeine and trays of food and other bullshit, he looked at himself, the scary mothafucker who replaced Ben Solo. And still saw weakness in those eyeliner rimmed eyes.

“Yelling at some bitch. Want me to do her spot?”

“Like fuck.”

Phaz started this tradition when she slapped the shit out out of him their last night in Berlin at their first tour. The photos of him “beautifully cut up” from her damned rings went viral. The rage he brought to the performance sent them to the top.

“Hey!” Hux waved down someone with a lanyard. “Can you—never mind.“

Phasma strode in, long legs eating up the ground.

“What got your panties in a twist?”

“Fuck off.” The snarl should’ve been the right vibe for the show, but something underneath was... bitter. “Just get it fucking over with all right?” She downed a shot and chased it by another. “You ready?”

Kylo already squared his jaw and prepared for the backhand bitchslap that would hopefully get him in the right mood when Snoke came through the door.

“There’s the rest. Armitage Hux. Kylo Ren. You’ve already met Phasma.”

The man’s appreciative glance up and and down her ripped-pantyhose clad legs didn’t do much to improve her mood. Crimson lips tightening into a line, she nodded at the man who barely reached her shoulder.

“I do love tall, tall women,” the man murmured, his admiration obvious in that toothy smile. “Grisha Hutt. My family picked up this little project.” He circled a finger at the ceiling, indicating C.Bright.

_Can’t outrun the past, Kid._

And since he was supposed to be a fucking bitch, Kylo ran his hand over his spiked hair before pushing his earpieces in—just in time to ignore the Hutt’s outstretched hand.

That smile never wavered. Snoke didn’t seem too thrilled. “Thanks for letting us open in style,” Grisha added, as if nothing was amiss. Then he ran a finger down Phasma’s arm. “Hope to catch you after the show.”

“Five minutes,” came through the earbuds.

“Phas-“ Kylo said, even though the mood became different, the rage dissipating under a general sense of something wrong. But the tradition needed to be complete.

“This is fucking BULLSHIT.”

Instead of slapping him, she whirled to Snoke. “I get that I’m the band’s whore, but making it that obvious? He all but ordered me to suck his fucking dick in his own fucking bathroom.”

“Dear.” Soft, dulcet tones, the ones that made Snoke’s voice eerily quiet. “I understand you’re upset, but look around. You’re not the only whore here. We all do necessary disgusting things to get where we are. You think these two,” a jerk of his chin pointed at Hux and Kylo,”enjoy fucking for the cameras to improve boosts? We all do things we rather wouldn’t for the overall good.”

“You dont,” she spat, but at least she appeared to be mollified. Just slightly.

“Are we at an arena with hundred thousands of people? Are we at an awards show? We’re in some little nightclub in little Chandrilla, like some idiotic group of hopefuls. All because the Hutts call in the favors from their so called friends.”

Phasma fluffed the black and white Mohawk and put in her own ears. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“It means, I’m bending over, same as you. Why don’t we ask Kylo,” this was said with a definate sneer, ”what our gracious host would think about his past?”

_I have a bad feeling about this, Kid._

“You know?”

Snoke, for once allowing himself to look his age, just sighed. “When will you realize there’s not much I don’t know?” He shook his head, for once his shoulders haunched, as if the weight of everything, of pulling them out of this spiral Kylo couldn’t seem to shake off, was finally wearing him down.

“Young Gwen.”

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows.

“Your contract term is coming up. I would suggest you reevaluate your conduct. And you,” those all seeing eyes landed on Kylo. “Consider this your mirror moment. You can choose to focus on the future or to drown in your past.” Snoke looked around the room, distaste dripping from every pore. “Tomorrow we’ll be in LA in a proper arena. Finish whatever you need to do and get this shit show on the road.”

Somehow there was more. Kylo knew something had to be missing, and maybe it was simply the sense of being Solo in a place owed by Hutts.

“Come on Phaz.”

She lifted up her hand.

Then dropped it.

“You know what? I’m done.” She shook her head and breathed out a long exhale. “Fuck my contract. You’ll have to find somebody else to slap the shit out of you once I’m gone.”

“Kill the house lights,” came through the earpiece, and she spun on her heel and made way to the stage without looking back.

_Real bad feeling, Kid._

“Uh. Mr Ren?”

He poured a shot of DarkSider down his throat—good enough for a warm up—and raised a eyebrow at one of the bouncers. Asshole or not, you learned early on not to piss off the crew.

“Some chick pulled VIPs privileges to get her squad in. She’s on the list so not a big, but... “ he shrugged, hands in pockets as if preparing himself for a verbal blow. “Asked for us to let you know she’s here.”

Probably one of the models he couldn’t bring himself to fuck. DarkSider warming up his veins, he grunted a long note to test his throat, then nodded. “If she’s already on the list, Snoke must’ve cleared her.”

“Yeah.” The man brought a hand up over the head beading with perspiration.“My guy said something’s off with her. I got a camera on her crew just in case. Her name... Fuck, can’t remember... Ray? Like Ray of Sunshine? ”

The shot glass shattered in his hand.

**_Then_ **

The pizza, cold, untouched, because _we’ve talked about this, I need to get ripped_ , mocked her on the counter.

“For fucking once, can’t you let Snoke just do his job?”

“His job is to control every second of your day?“ But Rey said that without heat, because the heat had been long gone. Three jobs plus extra shifts added up fast, but at least she didn’t sell her copyright beyond lowering her royalties percentage.

“We’ll make time to go exploring. But fucking Christ, you know I have to work.”

“I get it. You’ll be busy.” Calm tone, deceptively calm words. Two weeks ago, she’d have jumped him from whatever twisted way she got off on his rage. Or maybe finally, the lack of sleep caught up with her libido. “I’m just saying there’s nothing for me there. There’s only so much I can eat in hotels.”

“What the fuck do you want?” He prowled, long legs eating up the carpet. His lease would be up soon. “I get you have a phobia. Trust me, I get it. You know how hard I had to fight Snoke so you could simply stay in the hotel?”

_Voices overhead. Scary loud music in her ears. “Who the hell left their kid here?”_

Any other time she would have yelled right back. This time... ““Don’t do me anyfavors.”

“That’s all you got?” He pushed a hand through hair he’s been styling with products more expensive then her car payment.“You think, fighting my manager, my mentor, the man helping me reach my potential, is some favor I’m doing for you?”

“I certainly don’t mean to come between you and your mentor.” Even as her heartbeat quickened, she kept her own temper in check.

Her damned feet hurt because of the last extra hours at the diner. The shoes—high strappy heels she was supposed to wear on the plane for BTS shots—lay where she threw them on the floor, next to the ancient duffel slouching by his name brand stylish suitcase.

He’d just informed her that the last few hours they had carved out for sightseeing had been taken up with photo shoots and parties.

“I’m simply saying I’m tried of making excuses for you.” The way he said that, angry but resigned, felt like drowning. “Everything on this tour is designed for maximum exposure. I get you aren’t into music scenes clubs and parties, but that’s literally my world.”

**_I thought I was your world._ **

The words escaped in her throat before she could suppress them, and only pride kept her from shrinking back.

“Realty? You’re doing this to me now, two hours before take off? So what, I have to choose? You or him? You or my future? You or everything I’ve worked for?”

Deep breath. Deep deep breath because she really wasn’t sure where this was going. “I’m simply saying—“

“Fuck this shit, you know that?”And in a blur of motion, he slammed a fist into the wall. “I’ve fucking had it with you. Go, don’t go, I can’t do this again. I still got shit to finish at the studio, so just.. “ Were his hands shaking? Or was it her that trembled so hard her vision couldn’t be still? “I don’t know. Meet me at the airport. Or don’t. Wear the fucking heels. Or don’t. I’m honestly out of shits to give. Ball’s in your court, like fucking always.”

He looked at her for a long endless second, as if willing for her to say something. To agree with him? To say that she was in the wrong?

Then, in the screaming silence, lights gleaming on the metal studs over his newest leather jacket, he jerked his suitcase by the handle and turned his back.

He didn’t slam the door.

**_Pain._ **

He didn’t leave her in the crowd.

**_Pain._ **

He didn’t hear the screaming in her head.

**_Why didn’t you take my hand?_ **

Tears welled up, but she still stared into space, blindly working out the rhythm. No breaths, no sniffles, just this unending—

**_Pain._ **

**_Why can’t I make you understand._ **

Did she just really complain about him having no free time? Did he really think she understand nothing about his work, how much this meant to him?

It would be okay. Everything would be okay. She couldn’t deal with this, but she could hear the words, work out the rhythm.

**_Pain._ **

What was she supposed to do for three months in a different hotel ? Snoke had already struck the possibility of her going exploring on her own. Something about liability and how things would look.

Then nine months after that, a longer tour?

So far, therapy hadn’t helped. And a part of her, the part that sounded like Plutt, kept whispering that nobody liked whiners.

**_How long am I gonna pretend._ **

She needed to focus on the words and not the tears.

Forcing herself up from the kitchen chair, Rey rummaged for a piece of paper and a pen, counting off the syllables, writing down the words.

God, the hurt on his face just before he shut down, the way his lips firmed the same way every time he spoke about his parents or his uncle Luke.

She could go and be miserable, and live shuttered away in different hotels room, seeing him for the few moments at night.

She could try more therapy.

She cold try the cocktails of drugs, although they all felt wrong, somehow.

Or, she could wait for him to come home, at least after the first tour and they would figure things out from there.

Just because she couldn’t travel with him, didn’t mean she didn’t love him. And maybe they could use a break so Ben could get what he needed in life without her shit holding him back.

Maybe she did come between him and Snoke, and regardless of her distaste for the man, that wasn’t fair.

Her phone lit up, and for a second hope soared in her head.

But no, not Ben, he refused to text.

She paced and wrote out lyrics.

Too long to text, but she could meet him at the hangar and explain.

**_Never think you’re nothing... to me._ **

Yes, that was it. They just needed a break and frankly, he’s done more then enough putting up with her bullshit. She’d fly out to meet him in a couple of weeks—god knew she had money saved for all the site seeing they wouldn’t be doing.

Yes. This felt right. This felt good, and she could swallow past this lump inside her chest. Hell, maybe could finish her degree and earn her black belt.

Spend more time with Finn.

Grabbing her keys, Rey bolted for the door, scrambling with the fob to pop the car locks open. One more thing she could do—replace the bloody the batteries and work on her old car.

She’d talk to him, she’d make him see that they were fine, that they could survive long distance torture, both of them doing the things they needed for themselves and still meet in the middle.

She floored the gas. When the car flashed “key not detected” light she instinctively breaked just as a flood of headlights crashed through the darkness at her side.

**_Pain._ **

The light burned her senses, her body spinning, flying, screaming. The last word in her head as pain shattered her veins was **_Ben._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! I love seeing your theories about what happened and the whys.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get real.
> 
> CW://mentions of alcohol abuse, drug abuse, anxiety caused disassociation, self harming behavior.

**_Then_ **

“You don’t look like a man on the verge of stardom.”

Snoke approached with his chauffeur lugging a huge crate.

“I..” Fuck this. “Sorry. Just a fight with Rey.”

They would be leaving in fifteen, was she making a point? Calling his bluff?

“My fault again, no doubt.”

Of course Snoke knew. He’d always knew he was a source of tension, always apologetic but not giving an inch nevertheless. As any mentor would have.

They both watched the chauffeur hand off the case to the pilot and trudge back to the Bentz to get another.

“Was it the Gucci this time? Or the photos? I admit they didn’t come out great, but...” He shrugged, a man used to dealing with children. “I’ll speak to her again.”

Embarrassment slid over Ben’s limbs, and under it, hot swirls anger.“She’s... I’ll talk to her again when she gets on the plane.”

Under the bright fluorescent lights, he thought he saw a semblance of a grin. “She... isn’t here yet?”

Because he wasn’t sure what the answer was, Ben simply shrugged and dug out his phone, checking the time, checking to see if she had texted.

He bent to call several times, he sure as hell wouldn’t be the first one to text. Of all the idiotic, childish stunts—

“Young man.” Snoke rocked back on his heels.“I know tempers run high, but we must keep our schedule. I need to finalize the set and get get the shots done with that other girl before we leave the country.”

“The other girl?” Ben nearly shook at the implication. Surely, Snoke wouldn’t suggest—

“The female drummer? Gwen. I need the images released for posters at the venues. Why don’t you go get settled in? I’ll call your Rey.”

Okay.

Okay, he could do that. She’d probably be more receptive talking to Snoke now, anyway.

He slung his leather bag over his shoulder and took one last cursory glance up to the parking lot, scanning for lights, for cars. For fucking bicycles.

Nothing.

The engines revved up under him, and his heart pumped wild with fury and an emotion he couldn’t quite discern.

She was making him choose? Or maybe she was right, maybe he needed to step back, to breathe, because everything was happening too soon. Maybe he needed to just fucking stop and listen.

His phone once again against his ear, he all but growled at the attendant boarding up the door. Then Snoke’s hand settled with a heavy weight over his shoulder.

“She didn’t pick up I’m afraid, but I left a detailed message where we’ll be staying. I can’t hold up the plane, but she can take a bus or train down to LA and hopefully, tomorrow, everyone will calm down enough to speak like rational adults. In the meantime...”

Ben nodded, even as trepidation and rage and something more, something akin to is this it? roared in his head.

“You’re right. She’ll meet us in LA.”

***

All this felt wrong.

Of course, all this felt wrong, wasn’t he doing the same fucking thing Han did, taking off after a fight?

No, that wasn’t right.

He wasn’t the one leaving. He wan’t going to hunt her down and fucking beg for her to come on an international paid for music tour, for fuck’s sake.

The squeeze around his ribs was simply due toleaving things unsaid. He looked down at his phone and paced, stuck in New York on yet another delay due to weather. Was she that pissed that she couldn’t call him back? If only to tell him to fuck off, that she was done with all his bullshit?

He should’ve fucking texted her, but the new phone Snoke got him, sleek and black and horridly expensive, wasn’t made for his fumbling giant hands.

At least that cut down on Leia’s calls.

“My boy,” Snoke told him when they got into a plane at LAX—a public one this time since they no longer needed sensitive equipment to warrant a charter, “I can’t say I’m not sympathetic. But letting somebody control you...in this passive aggressive way... I must admit I’m concerned.”

His family did that the same thing. Tried to control him by doling out praise and affection only when he followed orders.

“Fuck, take a sedative.” The ginger back up guitarist moved his legs out of the way after the third time Ben almost kicked him. “Or hookup at thebar—we got plenty of time.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Despite his own resolve, he called again, once again listened to her cheerful infuriating voice inviting him to leave a message.

What the hell was he supposed to say?

_I’m sorry._

He wasn’t sorry though. Sorry to leave, sorry they couldn’t work this out in person. But he refused to be sorry for taking the next step to fill the legacy he had been meant for.

_I love you._

True but useless. Love wasn’t enough when he was pacing in New York and she didn’t bother answering her phone.

Maybe something was wrong? No, Finn would call him. If anything, the two of them were probably holed up in their old apartment, eating sugary crap and whining about awful men.

_Let’s talk when I get back._

In three months? If she didn’t have anything to say to him now, what would change in three months? And the really long tour after that?

Despite himself, he hit the contact he had to guess several timesbefore he hit on the right combo. He had it saved now under Kira. Snoke didn’t need to know he was so pussy-whipped.

No answer once again.

**

The crowd screamed his name. His new name, something he made himself with Snoke there to help him.

Nothing to do with favors from his family.

His name. His band. His music with Rey’s words.

Why wasn’t she there to see their success? Why wasn’t she there to see him?

He wasn’t cold—how could he be, dripping with sweat and smelling like expensive vodka? The newest tattoo stung his ribs—he wasn’t supposed to take the plastic off, but damned if that didn’t look good. Snoke said he was finally ripped enough to get more ink and Kylo fucking loved that.

Except, like a pussy, he paced in a quiet corner, dialing her number again and again, like a lovesick pathetic shit.

He should probably just text her. And say what? All he had was anger now, but fuck his life, he fucking missed her.

When the other end picked up, he held his breath. Then—

“Rey?”

“Who’s this?”A male voice. Not his business. Not his place.

“Put Rey on.”

A long pause. “She won’t talk to you, man.”

Ice in his veins.

If he wanted to, he could find someone who looked like her, turn her around, have her put her hair up into three buns. The groupies wouldn’t care what he called them.

“Kylo?”

He shoved the phone into his back pocket as Snoke approached. “What’d you think?”

“Could use more energy, but better then before. The female drummer was a good addition.” Those all seeing eyes watched him for any signs of doubt. “If you’re going to the after party, you shouldn’t look like a whipped puppy.”

“I...” He straightened to his full height, the stylized inked fire on his ribs burning into his skin.

“Better. Much matter. Sometimes...” His mentor nodded at him with guarded, almost, begrudging, approval. “Sometimes I look at you and see young Vader. I hope you’ll finish what he started, boy.”

**

He stared at the phone, as if the fucker played a cruel trick on him and dialed by itself.

Of course, no answer.

A part of Kylo wondered what was better, a direct refusal to talk to him, or a coward’s kiss off she conveyed through Finn.

And wasn’t he a pussy whipped pathetic loser pining for some chick back home when countless more chanted his name?

“Hey.” Gwen, hair spiked up, feet in needle thin heels that pushed her frame close to seven feet, teetered closer. “You ready?”

She was already riding high, despite Snoke’s iron clad rule about no candy. Then again, if it could be branded well, they all could OD on that shit as long as it would sell.

“Yeah.”

Hey! Leave me a message and I’lll call you back.

Phaz settled on his lap, smelling too sweet, too high, too fierce.

He shrugged his shirt off, wincing at the burn of healing ink on his arms and chest. A black tipped fingernail traversed the script of _Sunshine_.

“Not exactly our brand.”

He couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “Old girlfriend.”

“Oooooh.” That same black fingernail dug into his skin and scratched a mark through _Rey_. “Might want to get that covered up. Font’s ugly anyway.”

When her lips closed on his, her muscled thighs squeezing his lap, he shut his mind away.

***

“Certified platinum.”

They dropped a viral hit, and he had a damned blowjob.

He had interview slots booked backed to back, and the blue haired tattoo artist who covered up that name had broke his dry spell.

The moping and the subsequent rage had Berlin on it’s feet.

His ripped jeans probably cost more then the rent on their apartment. But he wouldn’t think of that, he wouldn’t think of the past. And if a part of him hoped that she watched the interview, he certainly didn’t dwell on stupid wishes.

“Five minutes!”

Live, on air. Everything he always dreamed off. And even as he stared at his phone, not calling this time, what would be the point? he knew he had to leave her in the past with everything that had been once Ben Solo’s.

“My boy.” His mentor strode forward with several papers, no doubt more endorsement deals for him to sign. “I know it’s right before your cue, but...”

He couldn’t comprehend the papers.Usage rights? Worldwide license?

“Since you initiated the agreement, I’m afraid I can’t take care of this for you. We have lawyers of course, and they can negotiate the price,but...”

His eyes went down to the bottom line, his old name next to hers. The zeroes danced and rattled his vision.

“She wants... money?”

“We’re profiting from her work,” his mentor said and rolled his eyes, as if to indicate how much Kylo still had to learn in this business. “It makes sense that she wants bigger cut. As I said, I can have our lawyers negotiate this down but—“

She wouldn’t talk to him, but she asked Snoke for money.

“Just...” He couldn’t breathe. A part of him wondered what the press would say if he shattered studio equipment.”Give her what she wants.”

“For that amount of money we should get a complete copyright transfer—“

“Sure. Complete transfer. Give her whatever she fucking wants,” he snarled and grabbed a shot of whiskey to washthe foul taste out of his mouth. Fury boiled his veins as he stepped to the mic.

**_Now_ **

“Are you all right?” Rose had to scream over the chants and whistles as the Mohawk sporting drummer of the Knights of Ren sauntered onto stage.

Yep, Rey was fine.

She wasn’t even here.

No chants and whistles bothered her as the redhead guitarist sneered down from the stage.

And since she wasn’t crushed by bodies, wasn’t jostled or stepped on or screaming, Rey didn’t flinch as finally, the last member of the band swaggered out.

She could look at him freely. She couldn’t not look at him, because that fallen angel face snarled at her from every screen.

She wasn’t here, but she could admire the feral power he wore as second skin, a mask over the man he had been. Piercings glinted in the crimson lights, a metal hoop through his lip, a bar through his eyebrow, sharp looking silver in his ears. The scar only enhanced the beauty of his face, his hair long and streaming to his shoulders, his leather trousers tight around his hips, lovingly clinging to every swell of muscle.

The ink over his arms ripped fire into his skin, black and red flames licking his biceps.

She wasn’t here.

She didn’t think about the last time she touched him. How he looked at her when he came, his eyes shocked, the red flush on his face the same as now.

She wasn’t here. She could look, freely at him, without guilt or shame.

The vest, also black gaped at the front and showed muscular abs. The tattoo on his chest, the thorns and FUCK over the Sunshine stayed obscured, partially, by the leather flaps.

Outside her bubble people roared,lights and phones flashing to the beat. Over the noise, his voice—a guttural snarl ripped from his throat—hammered her senses.

She hadn’t seen him like this, not this raw, not this primal. And words that came from her amplified the mood, his brow drawn low as he snarled at the crowd.

**_A monster filled with rage._ **

**_A demon drunk on pain._ **

**_A kid still left in hell,_ **

**_A mind that’s gone insane._ **

The screens flashed to his hands, crimson lights highlighting his grandfather’s ring he still wore on his finger. She wouldn’t think about how she loved those hands.

Through the bubble, the music, the words, some hers, some not, blurred in a rhythmic stomp that echoed in her heartbeat.

But she was fine. She wasn’t here and she was fine.

She simply floated.

“How you doing fucking C.Bright?!”

Answering catcalls and whistles would’ve deafened her without the bubble blunting out her senses. The lasers flashed too fast, and Rey blinked at the onslaught—finally a reason to tear her gaze away from that sneering feral grin.

“Good to be back here, where we started.” His voice seduced her out from the safety of the darkness. “Good to get back to the shithole of your past. You all know the fuck I’m talkin’ about.”

She frowned at the subtle dig that surely had nothing to do with her being there. Rose, already red faced, bared her teeth, but stayed where she was.

On the other side her, Finn crossed his arms.

All was good.

She could get through this and talk to him later.

No crowds closed around her,her friends, her closest friends—how pathetic that her only friends were her old roommate, her old therapist and her old surgeon—keeping everyone at bay.

The woudln’t leave her here.

She wouldn’t be lost.

She wouldn’t drown in this crowd.

Another song, this time more grunts then words, the rhythm painful in her ears. The lasers burnt her skin, somehow finding her between beats of the dark.

“Babe?” She blinked at the hand passing by her eyes, realizing she closed her lids after another strobe flashed at her. The stage went dark, and when the beams came back in a starburst of red, those dark furious eyes focused.... on her.

“I’m pretty sure he knows you’re here”

She swayed a bit, and Finn’s gentle hands under her elbows kept her upright.

The band seemed to be taking a break, Kylo swigging from a giant clear bottle, his body and strong line of his neck in perfect profile. For show, Rey realized, as gold lights flashed and dimmed and screens dutifully showed his large palm framing the label.

“Babe, are you sure you want to stay?”

No questions. No accusations, no “what were you thinking Rey.”

Through the bubble, she floated between them, Poe at her back, Rose and Finn flanking her just like before, not touching but ready to catch her if she fell.

“Hey all you fuckers.” His voice came back again, smooth whiskey over broken glass. “We got a special guest tonight.”

Dread coiled icy fingers in her belly. Surely he wouldn’t call attention to her, not here, not when Snoke wanted all the drama to stay on the stage.

“I wasn’t gonna say shit, but hell, it’s a special night. Opening night, so good to open up, amirite?” The laugh was ugly, gritty. Poe’s steadying hand on her shoulder kept her grounded as the lights caught her right between the eyes.

But still she floated. Even if her heart hammered in her throat, she floated with Finn and Rose flanking her sides, Poe at her back, like always.

Like when she walked the first time.

When she came out of the hospital.

When she managed hobble up to his apartment.

When they made her stay in the car so they could bring down the boxes she managed to pack.

“My ex is here. Come on up Sunshine, show that sweet fucking face.”

She stood rooted at her spot even as heads turned, even as her heartbeat thundered. The lights somehow knew exactly where to light her up, and trapped, everyone’s eyes and cameras on her, Rey had to fight to keep herself from bolting.

Don’t do this, she mouthed at him, and shook her head. Not right now, she mouthed at him, and was rewarded with a feral, almost non human grin.

“There she is. My Sunshine with her fucking crew.” More laugher. In a reverse of her phobia, he pushed through a sea of bodies toward her, coming close with the light gleaming off the leather and metal adorning hisframe.

“You never came to any of my gigs, but now you’re showing off? That’s fucking lovely.” The fury in his eyes burned holes in her chest. And through the bubble, through the snickers and the laughter, through this reverse nightmare of him pushing everyone away, everyone except for Rose and Finn and Poe who stood soldier straight next to her, she smelled him.

Alcohol. Leather. And Ben.

Despite Kylo Ren’s clothing, despite the dark circles around his eyes, despite the metal in his skin and ink covering his body, the hurt under the fury was all Ben.

“I never asked before... Never asked why you ripped out my fucking heart. But now? It doesn’t fucking matter, does it. Best fucking thing you did for me.”

He took a mocking bow and kept advancing toward her through the crowd, yanking her back out of the darkness into a present filled with pain.

She flinched as the bubble around her thinned, and all but felt the phones and grinning faces getting closer. And even as her insides screamed,he did nothing to stop them from moving closer, letting them surround her, letting them breathe what was left of her air.

Rose’s hand squeezed hers.

Finn almost stepped in front but Rey pushed him aside.

She came here for this.

She wasn’t here.

Ben stopped barely a foot way, those dark lined eyes smoldering with rage. With vodka on his breath, he haunched down, nearly touched her lips.

And snarled into her face.

“Let the past... DIE.”

***

The glimmer of tears on her lashes fueled his anger. Those parted lips, the way her chin trembled before she firmed her mouth, fed his rage.

“Let the past DIE!”, he roared again and hated the sick pleasure of seeing her sway back, her idiot friends completely useless. “Hear the monster CRY. Kill it if you have to cause your whole world is a LIE!”

Hux backed him on the third line, Phasma picked up the beat on fourth. And through it all, Rey stared at him with narrowed eyes, as if to see just how far he’d push her.

Snoke called this shit the Knights’ favored performances. The critics called it “pathos”.

The fools hired to bust up the place hovered at his peripheral vision, waiting for the perfect time.

He’d have to keep Rey out of their way.

“Don’t bother to deny,” he growled instead of screaming “There is no point to try.”

The crowd fucking cheered.

The bust-it crew moved further to the bar.

But those wide hazel eyes stared at him as if he shoved a flaming sword through her defenseless body, and fuck, he hated it, hated the stony resolution hardening her face.

“Let the past—“

“Enough.“

He excepted a punch. Craved it even. Instead, a soft and shaking hand rose up as if to slap him, but then, limply, fell back.

“Are you happy with this? All of this?” Her voice came out in a raw whisper, but of course the mic taped to his vest had no trouble picking it right up. “You got everything you wanted?” She gestured all around the club, the lights, the screens with his dumb face, his fucking mouth hanging open. The crowd hung on every breath, their anticipation kerosine waiting for a match. “You like the attention, the money?The theatrics?“

Without words now, he just stared at her, like a dumb fucking shit, and nodded.

“I GAVE that to you.” 

He never, in the time he knew her, heard her growl this way. “I ripped your heart out? I’m the one that got the scars.” And since he couldn’t do anything but watch, she grabbed the neckline of her top and jerked it sideways, exposing the gold slope of her shoulder. Exposing... scars etched that beautiful skin. “I got into a wreck the night you left. I didn’t know if I would walk again and you were touring Europe.”

What had been left of his hollowed out heart broke into loud pieces at her feet.

“I didn’t call you back. I didn’t guilt trip you to come. I didn’t want to be your burden.” Her whisper might as well have been a scream.

A part of him wished that she’d slap him. A part of him hoped that the wrecking crew would just finish him off.

And then the final KO.

“You’re fucking welcome, Ben.”

Ice.

Ice froze in his veins, ice deadened his bones, his muscles.

With shaking fingers he tried to take her hand, to make her stay, to make her watch him fall down to his knees in pieces. He barely felt Finn’s fist connecting with his gut just as the other man all but hoisted her up and rushed toward the exist. 

He needed to go after her. He still couldn’t understand. He couldn’t wrap his head around—

“She learned to walk to that damned song, you fuck! “And her scary female friend plowed a fist into his jaw as something crashed, something else shattered. The wrecking crew got to work and his vision went red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your amazing comments and kudos! I can’t wait to hear what you think of this update!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW://injury recovery, Anxiety/PTSD caused disassociation. 
> 
> Thank you for your invaluable input SleepingKitten, Summer and Dorothy!
> 
> Thank you to AuroraReylo, Dr Roslyn and Elle for the beta and feedback!

**_Then_ **

Rey faded, in and out, the pain so huge, so deep, the weight became a friend. Voices above her, shouting. Somebody bled—she smelled that copper stench, and would have shuddered but the lava wouldn’t let her. Pain? No, maybe something else, because she was held down by something. And even as she panicked, she groped for his hand.

He had to be here. He had to know. He would be worried sick.

“You’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

She would’ve cried, but the lights were too bright and the voice wasn’t his. That forced cheer should’ve irritated the crap out of her, but it was confident and strong and friendly, and at least she wasn’t alone. Somebody gripped her hand. Ben? No her palm didn’t fit right, not engulfed in the in the same way.

She would be fine. She had to be fine. She just needed to... where was she going?

 _I need Ben_ she told the voice above her, but she couldn’t make herself stop crying.

***

“Can I call anyone for you?”

She didn’t know how much time had passed. Three days?A year wrapped in cotton?

_Ben. He must be worried. Why isn’t he here?_

“Feel anything?”

They—nurses? Was she in a hospital? They told her they would poke her fingers, tiny pinpricks of pain.

They said it was good she felt that.

She wondered if it wasn’t good she coudln’t feel her feet.

“Let’s get you comfortable.”

Something beeped—she was hooked up to something that mapped out her heartbeat.

Floating.........

***

“It’s not an easy decision, but I’m afraid you need to tell me one way or another.”

Her ribs had been set, her shoulder in cast. The collar around her neck itched like a mother, and she still couldn’t move her limbs.

They said that she was young and fit and healthy.

_Who wants a burden hanging round you neck?_

Finn squeezed her hand.

The pain meds made her float, the temptation strong to rise up above and giggle.

The nurses still played pin cushion with her hands and feet, wasn’t that fun? Did she feel the pokes?

Finn’s fingers intertwined with hers jostled her down to the ground, but she didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to know that only athin barrier of meds separated her from screaming lava.

“Do you want to go over the pros and cons again?”

She didn’t care about the pros and cons.

She just wanted to float.

“Peanut.”

Finn’s hand once again squeezed her knuckles but Rey didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want him tethering her the ground.

“Just wait a few more days.” Finn finally said.

The surgeon—Poet?—spoke from somewhere above her.

“You are... her boyfriend?”

“Sure.”

No, no, she wasn’t here. She had to be somewhere else, this had to be a dream.

Why wasn’t Ben here?

She had no feelings in her legs. Below her waist.

She floated.

“The longer we wait, bigger the risk of atrophy.”

Bound to a wheelchair.

A burden.

Finn’s burden since he woudln’t leave, but at least she wasn’t hanging on Ben’s neck.

Would they leave her alone to float now?

“I need you to make a decision, Rey.”

She floated.

***

Eighty seven missed calls from an unknown number. She got her phone back—her car was totaled but they found the mangled husk under one of the seats.

The shattered screen seemed like a perfect metaphor. Rey ran her thumb over the cracks and pressed her skin into the edges.

If she felt something, small pinpricks of pain, did that mean that she was alive?

Eighty seven missed calls from an unknown number with more digits that should’ve been. Out of country.

“Peanut.”

Finn’s gaze—empty of expression because he already said everything he had to say—looked worn under the fluorescent eyes. “You need to eat babe.”

She didn’t want to eat.

She pressed her thumb into the cracks..

“Can I..” her voice came out funny. “I just want to sleep.”

***

Thirty something missed calls from an unknown number, different then the one before.

The cast keeping her arm immobile was finally gone.

Hot needles stabbed her skin, but this was good they said.

They said she was a miracle, strong and young and fit.

Rose’s face stayed carefully blank as she studied the X-rays. Finn had been sent home with orders to rest after three days nonstop.

Why did he stick around?

_Guilt._

“You aren’t ready for PT.” Therapist Tico didn’t pull any punches. Tough as nails spirit in a sweet rounded face.

“I’m getting stronger.” If by stronger she meant a tolerance for the lava now residing in her body? Yes, she felt stronger. Mostly because the pain had nothing on that other thing. Nobody talked about that. Finn must’ve told them.

Why did he stick around? She hadn’t done anything to earn loyalty like that.

She had to start PT.

She woudln’t be anybody’s burden.

***

Eleven missed calls from an unknown number.

She moved into the Rehabilitation wing.

Two months. Would he know where to find her when he came back? Would he even come back between tours?

And he’d see what? An invalid whose big accomplishment consisted of taking herself to the bathroom? From wheelchair to the throne, then back again?

The yellow “fall risk” socks really made a difference.

Her heart had skipped a beat when flowers had been delivered, that bloom of joy dying when she saw the card with Rose’s handwriting.

_Congratulations Rey! These are your first steps!_

All of this was a dream.

She floated somewhere dark, under the water.

She hated the bright sunshine colors. She couldn’t hear rhythmic words. This had to be some sort of dream, except this time, instead of people around her, she felt crushed by the lava.

She would wake soon, wouldn’t she?

Or maybe, if she stayed under longer enough, she wouldn’t feel all this pain.

**

Seven missed call, this time from yet another number.

The cop, Snap Wexley... was he a detective?.. sat across her as she pushed around grilled chicken. Toward the greens. Then to the mashed potatoes. Field goal.

“I’m not saying we’re closing the case. But... I gotta be honest with you here. With one one coming forward, and without any evidence, there’s very little to pursue. And if my gut is right, Jabba already covered those boys’ asses. Do you have good insurance?”

Insurance, ha. She barely had enough for rent, and school insurance covered contraceptives and vaccines but not much more then that.

She simply wanted to be floating in the dark. That was peace, wasn’t it? She finally felt... nothing.

“I’m sorry, Rey.” He briefly touched her hand, a scrape of fingers on her knuckles. She pulled her hand away.

The first bills had started coming in and in a hit and run, there was no way to tap the other party’s insurance.

So she floated.

**

Two missed calls.

She sweated and clung to the bars, her shoulder a tense line of fire. Poe leaned against the wall somewhere behind her head, Finn on his haunches a few feet in front. Her focus.

Rose at her side, barking both threats and praise and promises.

The other patients lifted weights—another of her prescribed treatments.But this—the bars? Rose let herself be talked into starting this retirement, Rey was nothing but determined.

She would walk again.

She woudln’t be a burden.

She would be present.

She needed to find work with all those bills to pay.

Finn looked at her with such pride in his eyes when she took those first few steps unassisted. Well, if unassisted counted clutching the freaking bars.

Rey smiled in what seemed like first time in years, except his gaze narrowed somewhere above her shoulder.

She found the reflection of the screen on the mirrored wall, and there was... Ben.

“Let the past. DIE.”

She would’ve fallen on the mat if Rose hadn’t been there to catch her. Finn too, surging to break her not-so-graceful swoon while her own words scattered all around her.

Poe at her back, murmuring something she coudln’t hear, gentle hands on her back checking if something ripped.

Something did pop. Her back couldn’t stop cracking.

Larger then life. Beautiful. Healthy. His heavily muscled arm around a Mohawk sporting blonde with endless legs.

“It’s a song about rebirth,” he growled into the camera, his gaze a coming storm. Black nails scraped lightly over his KoR tshirt, right where he had tattooed ‘SUNSHINE’. “We must leave our our pastand focus on the now.”

She didn’t know she cried until Rose offered her a box of tissues.

“Is that..him?”

Finn must’ve said more then she’d realized. Or maybe she opened her mouth in a silent scream.

“..A rising star in Europe’s metal scene, Kylo Ren rips our demons from our hearts and slays them with his music.“

“Let the past DIE!”

A rising star. Exactly what he wanted. Exactly on the path he mapped out for himself, without his family name, without Skywalker connections.

Now he was Kylo Ren, and Ben was gone.

She forced herself to nod to those who held her up and clutched the bars again.

**_Now_ **

The pity party of his body competed with the cold hard squeeze around his chest. The lights and buildings flashed in a blur outside the window, each bump and turn sending more jolts of pain into his gut.

A part of him wanted to tell the guy to turn around. To take him back to the damned club and deal with the cops. Or take him out of the city, just get on the fucking interstate and floor the fucking gas.

Instead he stared at his phone, scrolling through emails from Mitaka for other addresses for her, and frowning at the various anger management newsletters cluttering his fucking inbox.

_You need to talk to someone, Kid._

Fuck that damned voice.

_< Hux: ??>_

_< Hux: Wr the fuck r u>_

_< Hux: Wr trending, sprme asshole must be fking thrilled>_

A screenshot of their hashtags blowing up. Under it a gif of him, already a fucking meme, towering over Rey.

#monsteRen.

He would’ve deleted the photo if nausea hadn’t welled up, so he looked straight ahead, just like Han taught him.

_Kid. You’ll find the right way._

_< Hux: If you don’t fucking answer, I’m calling the cops>_

Cramped in a backseat of a taxi, he tried to force his stupid shaking fingers to hit the right letters, then fuck it, who gave a shit if the driver heard him, he mumbled into the phone.

_< Ren: I’m good.>_

_< Hux: you got checked out?>_

His whole fucking body strummed with.. something. The bruises sang, the gashes on his face and ribs fueled thelow throb of anxiety. And over everything, one phrase stuck in his head.

_“You’re fucking welcome, Ben.”_

At least he hadn’t thrown up at her feet.

_You got a way with people, Kid._

For once, his father’s voice was welcome.

_< Hux: Think Snoke planted the wreckers?>_

More fumbling, and maybe, a part of him, welcomed the distraction, the sheer idiocy of typing the right letters on the tiny screen.

_< Ren: y.>_

_< Hux: da fk? why>_

Too long to type, so once again he spoke into the phone and ignored the curious glance from the driver.

_< Ren: You know he hates returning favors.>_

Something brewed in his head, something ugly, something he couldn’t put together. Ben Solo was the one that thought, too much, too long, too emo.

He managed to get out before the bottles and makeshift Molotoffs lit up the place, catching Rey and her defense squad just before the fighting really broke out. Her scary friend took the opportunity to land a few deserving hits while the other two dragged Rey into the street.

The rest had been a blur of motion, between the ambulances and the cops. Apparently Snoke left just as the Knights had gone on stage.

He didn’t like the picture Ben Solo was painting.

_< Hux:She kicked me shins again. I think I’m love.>_

_< Ren: That bitch looked like she wanted to kill me.>_

The driver flicked a curious glance at him but thankfully didn’t ask.

_< Hux: That’s future Mrs Hux so watch your fucking tongue>_

_“She learned to walk to that damned song!”_

_“You’re fucking welcome. Ben.”_

_< Hux: I just apologized againfor pulling her off you. She’s feral and hot as fuck.>_

_< Hux: Where r u>_

He tried to keep his voice low as he spoke because letters were fucking useless.

_< Ren: around>_

Then, because it was Hux,

_< Ren: I’m not on a bike if that’s what you’re getting at>_

The answer was an instant thumbs up.

Incoming call from Snokes assistant. Since nothing could be said, he let it go to voicemail and tried to calm his fucking body down.

_“She learned to walk to that damned song!”_

Because the letters blurred, he spoke into the phone again.

_< Ren: I need a favor.>_

_< Hux: srsly?>_

_< Ren: Ask her if it’s true. About the fucking song.>_

_< Hux:...>_

_< Hux: She says she’d rather beat you up in person.>_

More texts from the Snoke’s assistant reminding everyone to be ready in he morning to head to LA.

The next text buzzed a congratulations of their numbers going up, and he turned his damned phone off.

The picture Ben Solo painted in his head started to be more clear in his head.

_You have your moments, Kid. No many of them, but you do have ‘em._

And once again, he was chasing after Rey, this time in quiet looking suburbs. Poe Dameron, Spinal Surgeon. Married. He didn’t know why that last bit mattered.

Not anymore.

Not when he’d been the one to fuck everything up.

The cold squeeze around his chest coincided with each jolt of the car.

_“She learned to walk to that damned song!”_

“Hey. It’s your dime if you want to just hang out.”

He needed to move. To get out of the car and see her. Ask... no... plead, for the fucking truth, without a god damned audience this time.

He pushed his aching bones out of the car and the driver craned his neck to grab a credit card through the passenger window.

“Aren’t you a rockstar? Kyle Ren? My idiot nephew listens to that crap.”

He shoved the card into his wallet. “My name’s Ben Solo.”

_See Kid? No so hard._

He didn’t have the strength to argue with the dead. He didn’t have the will to study the picture his old self puzzled out.

So he strode up the porch steps with blood on his face, stinking like vodka and whatever other bullshit that’s been spilled or thrown at him, and, like a pussy, knocked quietly on the door and waited.

For what? He didn’t know. He just knew that he needed Rey, if only to have her kick him in the balls for everything that came out of his fucking mouth.

Maybe the anger management shit in his inbox—had to be Mitaka—was something to consider after all.

Then Dameron crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“Well well.”

“Is she.. all right?”

And he was stunned when with surprsing strength the man charged him, an elbow at his throat pushing him back, a fist landing into into his already abused body.

“Three out of three,” he managed, and would’ve laughed if anything had been remotely funny.

“I put her back together.” Harsh whispered words, and under them, a desperate sort of heat. “I was the one that told her she may never walk.”

The blows had been much easier. The words? Pure torture.

“I... didn’t know.” Pathetic, but the truth.

“You were too busy touring Europe.”

“She never called me back!” And wasn’t he the emo whining bitch now? “You have any idea...”

“You really an idiot.” But rather then an insult, pity colored the words as the man backed away. “I swear you two share a single brain cell.”

“I...” Exhaustion all but crushed his bones. “I need to talk to her.”

“And start round two? Where’s your audience? All those adoring fans? I thought you only had important conversations in a crowd.”

The wreckers. Rey on the VIP list. Limp performances, not enough “fire”, endorsements drying up.

He couldn’t think with his past self screaming in his head. He knew first hand what Snoke could do for improved numbers. The wreckers weren’t exactly a first time occurrence, and the Knights weren’t blind nor stupid, always having each other’s back during these types of stints. But to use Rey in such a blatant way... to tear a performance out of him? To pay the fucking Hutts for calling out a favor?

For a second, the world spun and tilted. For the first time, rage about something, _someone_ other then himself cracked through the walls he built around Ben Solo. Then—

“Hey, I still can’t get a hold of Finn. You think we need to—“

Those hazel eyes widened, her naked mouth falling open when she met his gaze.Her skin, that gorgeous golden hue, glowed against the dark blue towel wrapped around her torso and rivulets of water dripped from her hair onto scars.

Long jagged, pink and white, scars marked her upper arm and shoulder, and when she turned as if to flee, he saw the thickest one.

“Rey. Baby. Please.” He didn’t know how he closed the distance between them, how he managed to get around Dameron, how he ended up on his knees a step behind her. Rey looked over her shoulder at him with eyes completely dry, when like a fucker, his filled up with tears. “I didn’t know. I swear to fucking gods I didn’t know. Please baby, can I see?”

She didn’t move. She didn’t tell him to go.

She didn’t curse him like she should have.

“Rey? You want him to leave?”

“I’ll leave,” Ben managed through a throat of shredded glass. “I’ll do whatever you want, I fucking swear.Please baby, let me see you. Please.“

She exhaled, her eyes dry while he cried like a damned fool. Then again, she always had been strong one, he, always a wreck. And then with a slight nod, she loosened the towel at her back to let the fabric slump down the middle.

What was left of his world spun and collapsed. That scar, that thick puckered abomination on that beautiful skin. The reason she never called him back, giving him everything he wanted. _“You’re fucking welcome. Ben.”_

And he?

A fool. A bitch. A whining poor-me victim.

“That night I left?”

A lifetime later, Rey finally nodded, tendrils of dark hair caressing that beautiful skin. “You aren’t the only one with a flair for the dramatics.”

She did this whenever she got nervous. Tried to resolve the tension with a self deprecating laugh.

“I swear, baby—“

She still didn’t turn around.

“I would’ve come back.“

“And choose between me and your future? Yeah. No thank you.”

The words hit him dead center, right into his bleeding gut.

“A fucking martyr,” someone muttered from behind, but Ben didn’t take his eyes off the scar that seared into his retinas.

“I would’ve come back,” he said again, although it really was pointless.

“Yeah. Probably.”At least she gave him that.

The aching hollow in his bones refused to let him move from where he knelt, a giant idiot offering himself up his goddess. Rey stood still with her back to him, although she tightened up the towel again, a shield from his gaze.

“I... knew you would come back.” No jokes this time. No bitter laughter. “I couldn’t stand the though... I didn’t want to be your burden.”

“There’s that shit again,” came a voice they both ignored.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to fix this. Wasn’t she the one who was so good at fixing things?

“Loving you has never been a burden.”

_That’s a good line, Kid._

“It doesn’t matter now.” Her hoarse whisper shattered what dark pieces were left of his heart.

She faced him now, shaking her head. The cracks coming from her body had her jolting back just as he reached for her.

“Don’t.”

“Rey—“

“Just go, okay? Just go.”

He had to move. He had to stay there and plead with her. He had to...

...Do exactly as she asked.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

****

The bubble around her kept everything away.

The past two hours hadn’t been real, the crowd, the screaming, the fight breaking around her while she stood there, defenseless, broken, without her cane.

Kylo Ren screaming in her face.

Ben on his knees behind her.

She felt... nothing. She wasn’t here. She didn’t know what to do so she just floated in this dark and heavy hell. She didn’t think about him snarling at her with the words she created, stripping her of privacy and air. She didn’t think about how she gutted him with answers. Didn’t think about anything at all.

Not about the crush of people. Not about the look on his face. Not about him on his knees—was that only minutes ago?—pleading with her to let him see.

Well, now he saw. And everything was out in the open. A closure to her anger and his past. Now they could finally move on and there was no reason for these tears.

She felt nothing.

She floated.

She forced her limbs to move and pulled Finn’s sweatshirt over her head amidst the cracks.

Then Poe knocked on the guest room door, and despite the initial _leave me alone_ , Rey steeled herself for questions.

Then again, her stupid arse agreed having him take her here instead of her place where she wouldn’t have to be alone. Or maybe, she couldn’t stand being with herself after everything everything that’s happened.

“Is he still out there?”

“He just got up from the steps, but.. yea.”

Okay.

Okay he was finally leaving. Probably for the last time.

She had no reason to feel guilty. She had no reason to hate herself right now, to listen to that screaming voice asking her why she bothered to show up and stir up shite if this was how things ended.

“Remember when I hooked up with Snap?”

“Are you... that’s one hell of a way to change the subject.” Snap certainly made his way through their happy little group, and though the hookup was a poor memory for her, for Finn it had been devastating.

“Yeah, I remember.”

There it was, that same sad smile. ”He hates it when I bring it up and always says that he forgives me. The thing is, I still can’t forgive myself.I’d give anything to take that back.”

The bubble around her snapped. 

The present rushed into her senses, filling her up with sharp and cold reality. The pain.. not in her back, although that wasn’t pleasant, but the one she kept locked up inside her chest, swelled up and spilled into veins. Everything, _everything_ , rose up, and even as she tried to hold it back, the dam finally broke.

Before, with Ben behind her, on his knees, she had the bubble to keep her from imploding.

Now?

All she had left were her own whispered screams.

“Your point is.. what?” Hoarse, that voice couldn’t be her own. “Go after him? Apologize for keeping this a secret?”Her back cracked once again but couldn’t ash the flow of words. “I told him, didn’t I? You saw what happened.” The crowd, the laughs, the crimson lightning. The vodka and the songs, the flying limbs, the loss of air. Ben snarling at her from every screen.

**_You ripped out my fucking heart._ **

“Yeah, I was there.”

How could he stay so calm while the ground shook beneath her feet?

“And I’m not saying you shouldn’t beat the crap out of him. But he’s clearly not over it. And you’re clearly not over him.”

The tears, when they came, blinded her vision and flooded the cracks in her back. “What are you getting at?”

She needed the bubble back. She needed to get back inside the darkness, to simply float and never feel again.

“I’ll never have a second chance to undo hurting Finn.”

No. No she couldn’t deal with this again. She needed to float, to somehow get back in her bubble.

**_You ripped out my fucking heart._ **

“So what do you suggest I do? Run after him like in the movies? Tell him I never stopped...” she pressed a palm against her mouth, holding back everything. “Tell him that I fucked up? That I was terrified? Tell himthat I..” She couldn’t push out more words as something ugly and huge and agonizing threatened to break through the walls she’d built over the years.

“Yea. All of that.” Poe swiped a fingertip under his eyes.

She ran. Maybe she flew, like in her nightmares, because somehow her limbs moved sluggish as if under water. He wasn’t on the steps, and as Rey cleared the landing and ran out into the street, she caught a glimpse of a dark silhouette walking away.

Everyone walked away.

“Ben!”

Nothing.

Heart beating louder then the cracking in her back, she moved as fast as her legs could carry her, as fast as her lungs could suck in air.

“Ben!” Maybe that wasn’t his name. “Kylo!”

The night wind tore her voice away.

“Wait!”

She ran as fast as her limbs could move, a part of her thinking if this was just another dream, another nightmare, another something that wasn’t real, she’d see a blinding glair of headlights.

“Please, wait!”

She thought maybe he turned, but he kept walking, leather gleaming under the streetlights. Except... gods, was he was walking toward her?

“BEN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that enough groveling? Or not quiet yet?  
> Thank you so much for your amazing comments and kudos!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some sweetness.
> 
> Thank you to AuroraReylo, Dr Roslyn and Elle for their invaluable feedback!

Rey had no breath, no voice, no sense of time as headlights split the darkness. In her mind, she heard a squeal of tires, screamed at the the foul stench of rubber melting on the road, shuddered at the glass about to rain on his skin.

Then she was flying, or rather, she was caught, strong arms around her back lifting her up, a steady frame to wrap her legs and arms around.

He whispered her name as if in prayer.

“Rey.”

She sobbed. Her back cracked but she didn’t care, fighting to keep her grip around him despite the arms clutching her to his frame, pressing her close to his pounding heartbeat.

“Rey. Fuck. I’m so fucking sorry.”

She couldn’t stop.

This had to be real.

She couldn’t be underwater anymore, she couldn’t stay in the dark. No crowd stole her breath, nobody pushed her deeper. She couldn’t let go, because if she did, he would disappear and she would never get this chance again.

“Baby. It’s okay.”

For a moment she thought he was setting her down and clung harder, the ache between her shoulder blades increasing.

“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t stop saying that. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to go. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t know if was talking about now or then,but that didn’t matter. Rey couldn’t keep herself from babbling, couldn’t get close enough.

Under the alcohol and smoke and hair products, she smelled... Ben. Ben’s arms around her. Ben’s voice, so deep and low, murmuring to her, whispering her name, saying it was all right, when nothing really was all right, but it didn’t matter now, at least in this moment. He was here, those warm arms pressing her against him, and for now, maybe just for now, that was enough.

“I got you Rey.”

She buried her face in his neck.

“I have you.”

Another car sped by, the break lights at the stop sign guilding the edges of his hair in crimson .

“Hey.” His arms tightened around her when she finally unwound her legs from around him and slid down, only to falter when edges of pain knocked out her breath. “You okay?”

Was this... real? Was he here?

Terrified of breaking whatever reality this was, she nodded, and dropped her forehead into leather covering his chest. Right where the tattoo had been.

“Can we... gotalk somewhere?”

_Talk._

Right. Of course. They needed to have a bloody conversation. Like two adults. Because nothing technically has changed, but at least he was here, and she was touching him and he was close and—

“Keep it PG, children live on this street,” came from the side, where Poe nonchalantly leaned against a fender. “And since neither of you are getting behind the wheel right now, I’m gonna say it once: don’t mess up my back seat.”

*****

In the back of the Escalade, she gripped his fingers in stark silence, all too aware of _everything_. Her breaths, the way Poe glanced at them in the rearview mirror. The endless and yet somehow lightning fast ride to her place, with both of them sitting so stif in the back seat, the silence thick and tense and awkward. The heat and squeeze of his palm over hers kept her grounded, reminding her that she wasn’t floating outside herself again.

Then the tense moment when Poe pulled into the parking spot in front of her apartment, and Ben climbed out of the car and held out his hand.

Her back cracked gunshot loud when she put her palm in his again and let some of his strength help her come out from the comfort of the darkness.

“Hey.”

Poe came around the Escalade behind them.“You mess with her, won’t be just me who’ll put you under.”

And to her shock, the Dark Prince of Metal grinned, albeit tired, at the threat. “You should’ve clocked me at the club.”

Poe gave that small jerk of his head men do when they understand each other. “Rey should’ve had that honor.” Then, “Want us take your new toy back when I grab Rose and Finn?” He turned his gaze on her. “I just heard from them—they’re at hotel Chandrilla.”

She wondered how in hell they got there, but Rose’s ingenuity was stuff of legends. “You just want to speed in it around town.”

“Can you blame me?”

Grateful for the diffusion of tension, for the absurd normalcy of it all, she tossed him the golden dice and thought maybe she heard the man beside her catch his breath.

Then Poe sped off, leaving them in the charged darkness, and Rey he had no idea what came next.

“Ben... Kylo.”

That laugh, so bitter and so rich. “I honestly don’t give a flying fuck what name you call me.” The palm of his hand burned her skin. “You should’ve, you know. You should have fucking let me have it at the club.”

“I did. But...”She never thought she’d do this, not in a parking lot, under the stars partially obscured by trees and buildings. “My parents left me at some sort of concert. I don’t remember much. “ She couldn’t look at him, at that dark angel she helped to destroy. “It would’ve never worked with us even if...”

There. Their relationship summed in just once sentence. Clear and simple and out in the open on South Bath St. parking lot.

“I thought...” He shook his head, the leather vest slipping open on his torso, revealing the thorns and SUNSHINE on his chest. “You never told me that.”

“I... wouldn’t have.” She shook her head when he opened his mouth to say something. “I didn’t remember about the concert until therapy. Poe thought I was depressed.” She had to snort at that.

Only when his hand, slow, hesitant, came up to cradle her face, did she realize his scar glistened with a single trailing tear.

“I’m just saying so... you know. It’s not going to change. Even if...” She didn’t say if they were going to get back together. She wasn’t even sure he wanted that.

Did she want that?

“Okay,” he said. So simple. So... accepting.

But his fingers gripped hers, and for now, that was enough.

In the ensuing thick, uncomfortable and yet companionable silence, he followed Rey to her apartment, patiently waiting while she fumbled for the key.

“You hungry?” That’s what one did when one had guests, right? Offer food? ”I can make you something.”

Somehow, all this was easier in the dark, with the streetlights bouncing off his pale skin and dark hair.

“You cook now?”

No longer touching him, she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “Depends on what you’re calling cooking.” She lived on takeouts from the hotel. “I can make killer Mac and Cheese.”

“That... would be great.” He fumbled for a moment behind her, and Rey realized he was taking off his boots. Back then, a lifetime ago, he had been the one to insist they take off their shoes in their apartment. Here, she didn’t see the point to bother since she never stayed around long enough to make a mess.

She needed to getplants. And throw pillows. And pictures in fun colorful and snarky frames.

But now...

He ran a hand over that mess of rumpled hair, and she realized, he was just as lost as she about what came next.

“What do you need right now, Ben?”

The only answer was a confused beat of silence.

“I don’t mean overall. But now, like right this second. What do you need besides food?”

A long shuddering exhale.

“You mind if I got the club stink off me?”

Normal. Nonchalant. Something a normal person would do after a night like this.

“I don’t really have extra towels but—“

“I’ll use yours. If you don’t mind.”

Just like that.

The minutes seemed like hours. Maybe centuries.

Rey busied herself stirring, and by the time she ladled mac and cheese (at least she didn’t suggest pizza) on a plate, Ben came out of her bathroom with his lower body wrapped in a grey towel. He’d swept the damp mess of his hair back from his forehead, his ears that he always hid on full display, that big muscular frame a pale canvas for black and red swirling fire.

She stood like star struckidiot with her mouth hanging open when he flashed her a smirk.

Rey didn’t realize she’d gotten close, so close, close enough to touch him. She frowned at the bruises on his ribs, the obvious three circles of knuckles on his body, visible in the pale light from the street. And when her fingertips touched skin, wanting to trace the inked fire licking up those muscled arms—

“Rey.”

She coudln’t tear her gaze away where FUCK obscured her name. As if on it’s own accord, her hand reached out... and Ben flinched back.

“I’ll burn it off.” Hoarse voice, low and uncertain. His palm engulfed hers when she pulled her hand away.

“And ruin fantasies of million of women?”

He saw right through the snark. He always did.

“I’m scared of fucking this up,”he murmured in that gravel voice and slow, as if not sure if she’d reject him, slanted his mouth over hers.

Soft featherlight brush of lips, as if asking for permission. Sweet lips against her jaw. Rough stubble on her cheek. Was it so wrong that she got aching wet already?

“I... Fuck. I think I must be dreaming.”

She understood that more then she could say.

“We really should talk,” he muttered in a delicious rumble over the hollow in throat, and she didn’t disagree, simply angled her head back to give him better access.

“We need to—“

Her back cracked when she brought her free hand up to cup his cheek, his stubble a delicious rasp against her fingers.

“What do you need?”

“I..” He shook his head. “It’s not about me right now.”

“Ben.” She led him—if one could lead while walking backward—to the couch. “What do you need?”

“I....Fuck. I need whatever you’re comfortable giving.”

“It’s been a while since I....” she raised her eyebrows, daring him to complete the unsaid phrase.

Then somehow, she sat astride his lap, the towel a barrier between her core and the rapidly hardening erection beneath her.

“A long time since you did... this?” His voice caressed her ear in a low intimate growl, his hands closing over her hips, spanning her torso. Squeezing, just a tiny bit,as if to see if he could still span her waist.

Gods, she forgot about how much she loved his hands on her. Except..was he... shaking beneath her?

“Are you okay with this Rey?”

He was. He really was trembling.

“I should be asking you this.”

Did he just bury his face in her neck so that she woudln’t see his eyes?

“Ben—“

Maybe this was too much. Maybe they should just talk and get everything out. So what if she was so suddenly so freaking horny she could come humping that towel clad rock hard thigh? They needed to be mature, and figure out—

He lifted her as if she weighted nothing and carefully maneuvered her around, one heavy arm across her belly gently pushingher back tolay against massive naked chest.

“Did you touch yourself?” That low and sinful voice caressed her ear. He alwas knew she loved his voice, the filthy beautiful things he used whisper right against her skin.

“I... “ She needed to stop thinking. “Yes.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

She tried to look over her shoulder, but her stupid back cracked.

Great. Just great. Talk about major turn offs...

“Show me how you touched yourself.”

Maybe he didn’t hear. Or maybe.... Maybe he did and it didn’t matter one bit.

She wasn’t underwater.

She had to be here. In this world. Present. With Ben.

His arms wrapped around her and if she wasn’t mistaken, his chest shook against her.

Head resting on his shoulder, she slid her palm under the waistband of the sweats and cupped herself, squirming on his lap just for effect.

He wasn’t the only one who knew how to drive both of them crazy.

“Did you touch your clit?’”

“Maybe.”

Lips smiled into her hair. “Brat.” Then, “Show me.”

She did, with his hand covering hers over fabric (Finn probably wouldn’t want his sweats back anyway) as she slowly, gently, ran her own fingertips over the awakening bundle of exquisite sensation.

“You have any idea...” He cut himself off and pressed a kiss into neck, and already on the edge, Rey slid down to gather more slick at her opening, pressing two fingers together, harder, faster...

His palm clamped down on hers.

“Not yet.”

Did that whimper really come from her?

And he? That bastard chuckled but the sound didn’t come out right. She wanted to turn around and see if that moisture tickling her ear was what she thought it was, but she couldn’t crane her neck that way without cracking.

“Strip Scavanger. So far, I’m the only one here naked.”

“I....” In the present. Not floating in the dark.

Of course her back cracked when she tried to turn. “I want to, but...”Real. Present. Honest. “The scars.”

Arms tightened around her, soft, soft lips on her neck. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, sweetheart. But,” a rasp of teeth had sparks dance on her skin. “I’ve seen your scars. I want to taste them.” And then, the final broken words. “If you’ll let me. Please.”

And caught under his spell, she managed to peel off the tshirt, his hands pressing sweet sweeping circles on her hips.

She still couldn’t crane her neck enough to see his face, but at least nothing cracked this time. Then, stripped bare, no towel between them this time, his erection a delicious tease inches from where she was already dripping wet, she sat astride him, her spine ramrod straight.

“You...are a warrior goddess.”

She would’ve said something but couldn’t break the spell. Instead, she shivered at the featherlight texture of his lips. Over the scars. As if mapping them with his mouth.

“I missed your freckles,” he murmured, his breath bathing her skin in warmth and need. “I missed the way you jump when I would bite you.” Teeth scraped over her flesh and had her biting back a whimper.

“And I missed these.”

Soft, slow, his palms rough, his touch tender, heslid his hands under the slight curves of her breasts and cupped, lifted, massaged the suddenly aching curves, spreading his fingers to completely encompass each breast and the same timepurposely ignore her pebbling nipples.

Soft pleasure coursing through her veins, she couldn’t help but melt against his naked chest.

“Did you miss me touching you?” That devil wicked voice ghosted over her ear.

“No.” He wasn’t the only one who knew how to tease.

“We’ll see.”

And Rey couldn’t stop her head from lolling back against that massive shoulder when fingertips caressed the sensitive peak of her nipple.

“Changed your mind?”The other one got the same treatment.

She shook her head and was rewarded with his palms smoothing over her breasts, down over her belly, his touch no longer feather light but still achingly slow, fanning the flames instead of soothing.

“What do you want Rey?”

**_Just you._ **

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from those beautiful hands sliding lower to push apart her thighs, to cup her sex, his fingers warm and huge... and still.

“Ben?”

His heartbeat thundered in her ear.

No movement. Just his breaths, his chest rising and falling under her. That vibration in her body... was that her.. or him?

“What else did you miss?” he finally murmured, his breath ghosting against her neck.

“I missed... fuck.” She couldn’t think, not like this. She couldn’t tease with his heat so close to where she needed.“Your hands.”

**_Just you._ **

She shivered at the long tortured breath bathing her scars, the way the arm around her belly tightened.

Then he was there, right there, gliding those magic fingers through her slick, a sweet caress, his knees spreading to push her legs further part and open her glistening lips wider.

Featherlight strokes, bliss and frustration, circles so soft and slow over her clit. Perfect and not near enough, the hard press of his cock against her buttocks promising blistering satisfaction while his hands... his hands tortured her with sweet caresses.

“Harder,” she managed to whisper, and was rewarded with a rough velvety... watery? laugh. “Please,’ she added, and all but shivered at that dangerous chuckle.

“You know what else I missed?” Fast, firmer, strokes. She arched into his touch, feet planted on his knees, her torso, drawn up, ready...

“I missed how you sound when you’re close,” he whispered in her hair and pressed a single blunt finger into her, so good, not good enough, caressing her inside only to slide over her clit again, then back, inside her, stroking.

So close. So ready. The pleasure soft and sweet already singing in her veins, she fluttered around the plunge and retreat of his hand, but he was trembling under her, and even though she couldn’t twist to see his face, she knew what he was doing.

As much as it killed her, she grabbed his wrist and stilled his hand.

“Don’t hide from me.” Of course her shoulder cracked as she maneuvered back around to straddle him, to look deep in those dark and tortured eyes even as his cock pressed desperately into her belly.

“Baby. This is about you.”

**_Just you._ **

She kissed right where ‘FUCK” covered her name and he froze under her, hands gripping her hips but not moving, as if terrified to do or say anything that would ruin however long this fragile thing would last.

She knew exactly how he felt. And since there wasn’t a point in waiting, she lifted up, aligned their bodies...

“Baby.”

He rubbed a hand over his face.

Did he not want this? Did she just assume....

“I haven’t been.. not like you. We need a... condom. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Her turn to try a watery chuckle. “Does that mean you learned some new moves?” Then... because she couldn’t help this. “Do you want this?”

“I want whatever you’re comfortable, Rey.” Earnest gaze, glistening eyes in the darkness.

She pressed a long hard kiss against his mouth. “Then I’ll be right back.”

And she enjoyed the way his gaze followed her as she tried for an elegant walk instead of sprinting to the bathroom and praying the box Finn stuffed under her sink hadn’t reached the expiration date.

He fumbled with the wrapper he tore out of her hands. Then she was lost, lost in his kiss, lost in that white hot slide of sensation as she sank down on his length and groaned against his lips.

“God. Rey. Fuck, you feel good.” Those large hands gripped her hips, steadying her, slowing her when she wanted to go rough, when she wanted to tumble both of them into this hot and heady pleasure.

“Hold on baby. Hold on.” This was said through gritted teeth, and since he arched his neck she took the opportunity to run her teeth over the column of his throat.

Another mark she’d leave him.

“Baby,” A strained voice. “I don’t want to..fuck... I afraid to hurt you.”

“Maybe,” staccato bursts of pleasure “Maybe I wanna hurt you?”

And gripping his hair, she planted her feet on both sides of his thighs for leverage to riseand slam down on his cock, the pressure and the angle fusing with that tiny burn to give just enough edge to the sweet pleasure.

Maybe she really did want to hurt him, just a little. Maybe she simply needed to retake some of the power back, to make him feel that same blistering need, to yearn and be completely helpless as she rode him.

Except she didn’t count on his hands, those magical gorgeous hands ghosting where they joined, stroking her in time with her thrusts.

God, she was close, just a few more hard slams on his cock...

“Look at me.” A hand on her ass forced her to slow and she whimpered, actually whimpered, in frustration.

“What are you doing?“ Since she couldn’t lift up, she rolled her hips, reveling in the new sensation, watching him bite his lip.

“Do you ...” Hands tightened on her ass. “Do you still love me?”

No, not like this, not while she rode him, not while she hovered on the precipice of an orgasm that would tear her apart.

“Can we deal with this—“

“Do you still love me Rey?”Hard voice, hard hands on her hips, hard cock pulsing inside her. Soft, wounded, pleading, eyes.

She clenched her inner walls around him, rocking, trying get back that delicious friction. Closing her teeth over that same spot on his neck.

He lifted her as if she weighted nothing, slammed her back down on him, once, again, the third time. With one palm on his chest, she slid her free hand down, chasing the blooming orgasm, when—

“Do. You.” A hard slide up, then even harder, down. “Still.” Slick slick heat. “Love. Me.”

She trembled, so close, so freaking close.

“It doesn’t matter. ” Maybe she sobbed the words, trying so hard to writhe against him, to catch that edge, to fall—

“Maybe,” he ground out and snapped his hips up into her, his eyes so dark and tragic soft.“I never stopped. I never stopped loving you Rey.” And with that, he lifted her up again and worked her hard over his cock, finally pushing over over the edge, catching his own release just as she burst, and she cried into his neck, cried out into his mouth. And as he plunged into her so hard and deep, stars burst and spilled scorching hot pleasure throughout her veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They still have a lot to talk about, but they both deserve a reprieve, don’t you think?
> 
> Thank you for the amazing kudos and comments!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation eight years in the making

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to AuroraReylo, DrRoslyn and Elle for your input!

**_Now_ **

He hoped time had stopped.

All he knew was this silent bliss of Rey wrapped around him, her frame so sweet and sated in his lap.The rapid sound of her breaths silenced the voices in his head, the angry hissing whispers.

He never realized that before.

He never realized she had that power.

Nothing’s changed? Bullshit.

She was everything. And had been a god-damned fool.

Ben couldn’t stop himself from touching her, running the pads of his fingers over all that golden skin, over the beauty of her scars, her badges of honor.

She sighed and pushed her nose into his neck.

“Baby.”

He hated running the moment. Tomorrow... fuck, today, he would get every test available and pray someday she’d let her fuck her without barriers between them.

“Baby, I’ll be right back.”

Ben wasn’t sure if she heard him, her breathing deep and long, and only when he gently lifted her, he realized the wet warmth on his neck had been her tears.

He touched one with his fingertip just as she nodded and curled into a ball.

Waiting for him.

Waiting for him for eight fucking years while he...

_No point in beating yourself up. Believe me, Kid, I’ve been there._

With trembling legs—fuck legs, his whole body was shaking—Ben put a blanket over her andshuffled to dispose of the used condom.

No blood at least this time.

At least that had been good.

“What are you doing?” Soft face, sleepy eyes partially hidden by wild hair watching him with confusion and hidden weariness as he walked to the kitchen, the open plan of her place letting him keep his gaze on hers.

He never watched to lose sight of her again.

“You know how you asked what I needed? Right that second?”

She nodded.

“All I need is to fuck you again.”

Her mouth parted in an _oh_ and his cock went half mast.

“And I wouldn’t stop there. How’s your back?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, her body still hidden by the back of the couch. “Fine.”

“You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

She started at him for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe that came out of his mouth.

Then that laugh.

He’d make it his mission in life to make her laugh like that every damned day.

“You’re still a nerd.”

He couldn’t help but grin.“Just don’t spread that around. Got any Panco?” Nonchalant. She always did best when big things, important things, were discussed like weather.

With a blanked wrapped around her shoulders, she crossed her arms and made herself a cape. “Top shelf. It’s probably gone stale.”

“We’ll have to take a risk.” A double meaning if he ever heard one.

Feeling her gaze on him, Ben sprinkled Panco over the now cold mac and cheese he spooned into a glass dish he unearthed.

He watched her unfold from the couch, caught the wince and the soft pop of sound when she bent down, and then leaned on her staff. Then, using that thing as a cane, she crossed over to her kitchen, a grey ghost wrapped up in a cloak.

“Real sexy, huh?” There it was, that self deprecating laugh. “Snoke would’ve had a great time spinning this one.”

“Fuck Snoke.”

Her eyebrows rose at that.

“You should have called me.” There, out in the open. Everything that couldn’t be taken back. Everything that could break this fragile blooming peace. “I get why you didn’t. I was so wrapped up in my shit, that I can’t blame you for thinking that I would choose fame over you. But... You should’ve given me a fucking chance.”

“I couldn’t.” Quiet. Pensive.

Fuck him, he felt the tears prickling his eyes again.

“I knew you would come back. I knew you would, I swear.” She tugged the blanked closer around her, hiding her body from his gaze, guilt and dignity a shroud around her shoulders. “You’d hate me.”

“Baby—“

“You would.” A quiet resigned sigh. “And I hated the thought of being the weight around your neck.”

Naked, he stood bare in her kitchen, his own scars and tattoos and ugliness on display for her to see. “I meant it when I said you tore out my heart.”

He kept his voice calm. Low. No point in breaking down now, when he would probably break down after. “I honestly thought you were done with me and all my bullshit. Like everyone else.”

“Ben—“

“Please, baby, let me finish.”

He had to get it out now, while he still could, while they both had their defenses down. Before the morning came again and life reared it’s head.

“Everyone always talked about my potential. Skywalkers. Organas. Hell, even Solo has some fame, just ask the Hutts.”

She flinched, but remained silent.

“Nobody wanted me for me.”

“But I did.”

He really had been a fool.

“I.. I thought I needed more. And I lost sight of everything that was important.”

“I understand.”

A quiet admission.

The oven dinged, and grateful for a pause to gather the rest of his thoughts Ben wrapped his fist in a grey towel to take out the Pyrex.

“I thought you were done with me. It’s pretty much my MO with people.” His turn for a self deprecating laugh. “I even got Finn on the phone and he pretty much told me to fuck off. Then Snoke shoved that contract for flat rights transfer at me. We’d just hit big and now you wanted money? And didn’t even have the balls to get a hold of me....”

She looked at him for a long second, eyebrows lifted, lips parted, and Ben though that was it, he said something stupid and ruined their chance and she would kick him out now, and...

“I had several operations. Rehab. I couldn’t work the first eight months, and desk jobs after that.”

He was a complete shit.

“Forgive me.” He had no right to ask. Yet, those were the only words to give her.

Since she didn’t look up, he placed the Pyrex on a towel and looked around for utensils. The satisfaction of watching her dig in made him feel like a kid giving a great present at Christmas.

For a moment, nothing existed but the forbidden salty taste.

And then Rey signed and took his hand. “Ben... nothing changes.“

Fuck that shit.

He tightened his palm on hers and asked the one thing she still hadn’t answered.

“Do you still love me Rey?”

A beat of silence.

Her palm so small and fragile in his hand.

“I never stopped,” she whispered and the words broke him and made him whole again. “I wish I had. It would be easier. But... I’m still me. And you’re...” She waved her fork at him. Kylo Ren, she probably meant to say. You’re Kylo Ren.

He wondered what the hell he actually was now.

_You’re my Kid. Whatever name that comes with, doesn’t matter._

Averting her gaze, Rey shoved another forkful of orange macaroni into that sweetly swollen mouth.

So he went back to nonchalance, even if his heart threatened to burst out in his chest. “We don’t have to rush into anything. But.. I would like to see where this could go.”

Thoughtful, she studied him for a drawn out moment. “We can’t pick up where we left off.”

All this for nothing? He would accept that. He’d accept anything she’d give him, any crumbs.

“Rey—“

She raised her hand as if commanding him to silence. “We aren’t the same. Hell look at me, I’m like a ghost. And you... “

Another shrug of those strong shoulders. Another sound of limbs cracking as she winced. He waited for her to deliver the final blow, and hoped like hell it would be quick although he didn’t deserve her mercy.

“We aren’t the same people anymore. And maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t want to start over... But I don’t want to lose this chance of something new.”

Okay.

Oxygen.

Breaths.

Something new.

He could do this.

He could try being something new.

Maybe he could try with words, expressing feelings instead of screaming them into the void of music.

“I never stopped loving you. Gods know I tried.” Those hazel eyes met his again, weariness and longing. “It was okay at first. Sometimes it was even fucking great. Exactly what I wanted, what I worked for. Then... Inever felt so alone.”

_Good one, Kid._

The hand under his turned, fingers interlinking. “You’re not alone,” she said.

“Neither are you.”

**_Then_ **

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I came to see my son.”

“Your son.” The word tasted funny. Kylo took another deep pull of vodka, right out of the silver bottle. Sponsorship was the shit and DarkSider and him were a match made in heaven. “Your son ain’t here.”

His father—gods, when did he get so fucking old?—took a step closer. “Ben—“

“You hear that?”

He took another swig then swung his arm around, the bottle dangling from his clenching fingers. “They’re screaming forKylo.”

“Come home, Kid.” His fa—Han, looked so damned tired. Well, Kylo could relate—parties and photoshoots and concerts, not to mention groupies, stans, andsex.

He was free of his past. He was free of everything that held him down.

“Come home?” Kylo finished off the bottle and jerked on the expensive leather jacket some designer wanted him to sell. “Like you did?”

“Ben...“

“My name is Kylo Fucking Ren. You hear the crowd?”

“You’re Snoke’s meal ticket and you’re too blind to see!” The old man got into his way, and for the first time, Kylo realized that he was taller than his father. Han Solo, hotshot pilot, had no sway over him.

“Get out.”

“Fine, Kid, I’ll go. Just.. Here, look at this.” He took bunch of papers from the inner pocket of his jacket, and Kylo saw those oil stained hands shake. “Your mother had these done. You sign it, nothing Snoke gets you to do will matter in the long run. Some conservatorship crap.” He shoved the papers forward. “Nobody really has to know about it until your trust fund hits. And if you have one sense left, you’ll get the hell out of here and come home with me.“

As if anyone ever wanted him. Rey. His fucking family. Even now, they wanted to protect their money under the guise of watching over him. Watching him do what? Make something of himself without their fucking influence?

He took the papers—more like ripped them from his father’s hand. “Skywalker’s got you to do his dirty work? That’s why you showed up with this shit?”

“I came to see my son.”

“Your son ain’t here. Get out.”

“Let’s just talk about this, Kid.”

“I said, get the fuck out!” The bottle smashed into a wall above Han’s head. “That’s what you do, isn’t? Leave?”

That scruffy mouth trembled. “Not this time.”

“What’s different?” Fuck, he hated this, hated the way he got whenever his parents were around. “Fuck this.” He grabbed the keys.

“Ben. You’ve been drinking.”

“Only way to fly.”

The night became a blurb of motion. Rage, tears, longing, all under the roar of the bike, bitterness tinged with betrayal.

Come home his ass, they simply wanted to protect their money. If it had been Luke’s way, he wouldn’t have any inheritanceat all, the loophole Skywalker paid a shit ton for only preventing Ben from accessing his trust fund till his thirty first birthday.

Fuck them. Fuck them all. He didn’t need shit from them anymore.

Sweating under the leather, he pushed the shield of his helmet up, letting the wind blur out his tears. The Harley rumbled under him and Kylo revved the engine, going faster, faster, hoping to outrun the fucking moisture on his fucking face.

Rage? Rage was good, he could channel that into his next gig because Snoke’s been bitching about everything being “weaker”. Or rather, as that fucker put it, “limp.”

Rage gave him strength, and his fans loved seeing that, the echo of their own hatred of life.

He fucking hated life.

He hated Rey.

He hated his damned family.

He hated fucking Han for always leaving.

And when he careened right and lost control, the last thing he remembered was a car barreling itself between him and the redwoods.

**_Now_ **

“Ben.”

Somebody held him down. “Ben. Wake up.”

He needed to get to Han. He needed to see his father. If he could just get, up he could get to the hospital in time.

“Ben.” Warm, soft lips touched his eyes, gentle fingertips wiping at the trail of moisture. “Wake up. Come on, baby. You’re dreaming.”

Yeah that was it, this had to be a dream. He coudln’t be here. He couldn’t be in this calm warm darkness, with sweet smelling sheets that smelled like—

“Rey?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

Had to be a dream. A fucking vision. Because Rey left and he had been a fucking fool and yet here she was, her arms around him, that sweet voice murmuring something soothing. As if he was the one needing to be soothed after everything she’s been through...

Terrified this really was a dream he brought his arms around her back, and squeezed, gently, because fuck him if he brought her more hurt. But just enough enough, just to make sure she wasn’t a dream.

“You’re here.” He hated his Ben voice, so weak and trembling. Pathetic. So he just buried his lips in her hair and tried to lose himself in that sweet sun-filled scent.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” But he leaned back against the pillow with Rey curled at his side.

“I.. uh.” She cleared her throat. “I have nightmares too.”

Of course she did because her fucking parents left and his pretentious ass got bent out of shape.Poor little rich boy. So upset nobody gave a fuck about him, he got his father killed.

_You still don’t get it, Kid.I got to save you._

He ran a hand over her hair. “You want to talk about your nightmares?”

“No.” Except she chuckled. “You know, a part of me wants to just talk and talk. About everything that’s happened. And a part of me is...”

Terrified.

“I know,” he said. “I feel it too.”

And somehow, because she fucking read his mind, she traced a gentle finger over his scar. “What can I do?”

He settled back, for once, oddly at peace.

“Just be with me.”

Maybe he did die. Maybe this was heaven. Because her whispers of that phrase, the rustle of pencil hitting paper, the way she counted beats on her fingers, had to be a miracle from his past.

***

He got breakfast delivered. Apparently, sugary carbs drowned in milk wasn’t a thing. Since he didn’t want to wear last night’s leather, Rey gave him Finn’s sweatpants, and the sight of those coltish ankles and giant feet did things to her she wasn’t sure how to describe.

Somehow they fit into her shower.

Somehow they didn’t crash through the glass doors.

Somehow, despite being sore, she lay completely naked on her bed, thighs wantonly spread out.

“I don’t think I can come again.”

“It’s okay baby.” Sweet devilish kisses on her thighs, earnest eyes under dark locks of hair. “I just wanna taste.”

He started slow. Soon enough, she was screaming. Then payback was a bitch and maybe Rey wasn’t as sorry as she said soothing the bite marks she left on his skin.

He still bruised like a peach.

And through it all, Rey couldn’t let go of of that one fear. That despite words, nothing really changed. That he’d go back to his life and she couldn’t follow, waiting, always waiting....

“You know, you think too fucking loud.”

Plowing through his egg white omelet, he snuck a berry from her plate.

And because he was right, and she needed not ruin this fragile new thing,she pushed the fear away, “You know.. it’s been eights years...”

“Sweetheart.” He wet his bottom lip. ”I’m gonna need a few more minutes... or maybe if you could eat topless...”

She threw a berry at his chest, right at the “FUCK” above the Sunshine, her teethmarks once again aligning on the rays.

“I wrote something.” She refrained calling him an ass. “I haven’t been able to write, not for a while.“

“I have a magic cock,” he drawled and pulled her on his lap. “It agrees you should eat topples.”

Then more serious. “Can I see what you got?’

Somehow it was another piece that clicked back into their puzzle. And maybe her back popped when she handed him the torn off paper, but this time, she could hear the rhythm above the snaps and cracks.

**_Be with me._ **

**_Through the darkness._ **

**_Be with me._ **

**_Through the pain._ **

**_Be with me_ **

**_Just as my dying breath_ **

**_Turns into life again._ **

**_Be with me._ **

**_When I’m angry._ **

**_Be with me._ **

**_When I’m sweet._ **

**_Be with me._ **

**_When shards of light_ **

**_Beat back the darkness of deceit._ **

“Baby.” He took her hand. “This is.. it’s better then anything you did before.”

She couldn’t help the flush. “I thought I lost it. I couldn’t hear the words, not since the accident.” She was going to say since he left, but why delve in the past?

He smoothed the paper out, large fingertips gently pressing into each crumbled line.“I’ve been refusing to play new shit. We have writers on staff but nothing hit right.”

“Snoke told you haven’t been feeling it.”

His palm lefts hers. “Yeah? When?”

Truth, she reminded herself under that suddenly cool gaze.

“He came to see me the day before the club opening. I got this feeling like he was trying to make a point, that he wanted me not to show up. You know how I get.” Sarcasm, always go for sarcasm with a hint of a smile.

This time, he didn’t take the bait.

A minute passed.

Then two.

“He wanted me to go off. Start a fight, ruin shit.He never says anything, but that’s what gets us trending.” He shoved another forkful in his mouth, no longer looking at her, his shoulders haunched as if ready for her land a blow.

She’d been a puppet then. A tool to control him.

Rey picked the paper up, ready to tear it to pieces.

“Don’t.” And yet he still didn’t touch her. “Snoke doesn’t effect us. And this?” He nodded at the paper. “It’s fucking great. You probably could get into a bidding war for that. I can call up some agents if you want.”

“I’m... I’m just happy to be writing again.”

Something nagged at her, and her shoulder cracked when she reached out for a napkin.“Why would Snoke want to mess up his ownclub?” That just seemed... almost like something out of a movie.

Ben looked smaller now, haunched over. “He was roped into it, some kind of favor for the Hutts.” Then, “Rey?”

She must’ve gone pale, must have staggered, because his arms were around her, pressing her to sit down, Ben on his knees in front of her, rubbing the arms she realized felt frozen.

“Hey.” He had that look whenhe pretended to stay calm. “You’re okay. I have you. Lets try three breaths. Ready?”

“I’m fine,” she croaked out as ice stabbed through her back.

No hiding. No half truths, even if it probably was stupid.

“They said it was a hit and run, the accident. The cops said...” Was theresuch a thing as coincidence? “The cops couldn’t keep my case open, but with the way the witnesses shut up, they thought it was one of the Hutts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your incredible comments and kudos. Who saw this coming?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:// brief mention of cancer/treatment.
> 
> Thank you to Dr Roslyn, AuroraReylo and Elle for their feedback!

_**Now** _

He held together.

Barely, but he held together. Through another shower, through the quick glances she threw at him, as if wondering if he believed her but was afraid to ask.

He wanted break walls, destroy everything in his path, fucking cut Snoke in half.

Because Kylo Ren did shit. Kylo Ren acted.

Except right now, both he and Rey needed Ben Solo.They needed somebody to fucking think.

She said nothing but a quiet goodbye when he left her apartment. He wore Kylo’s clothes one of the roadies brought, but he kissed her as Ben should have every fucking night the last eight years.

She said nothing when she closed the door behind him, and he walked in the quiet from her place to the Silencer one of the roadies parked in front of her building.

He held together.

Because if he didn’t hold together, he’d wouldn’t be able to stop the feral screams.

He needed to fucking think.

The way she looked at him... as if wordlessly asking if he had believed her. Not saying it of course, because he’d chosen Snoke before.

It could’ve easily been a coincidence. Except that bastard taughthim that coincide was bullshit. Planning. Strategy. Snoke had been all about those.

A part of him wanted to turn around, to glance up to see if Rey watched from the window. Just like the time before, when pride and Snoke screamed in his ear to go when he wanted to wait.

And as DejaVu rolled over him, making him wait a little while longer, he heard a rhythmic sound accompanied by “Ben!”

And there she was, his Sunshine, rushing toward him with her cane and a smile, a piece of paper in her hand.

“Hey,” she said, and then looked down, as if embarrassed. No more embarrassment for them. No more hiding their emotions. “Maybe you could take this. Think of a melody during the drive.”

She shoved the sheet with lyrics in his hand and all but launched herself into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she said, such simple words to encompass the void that had been the last eight years. “I’m sorry, Ben.”

Wordless, he simply clutched her close and barely avoided braining himself with her cane.

“Can I come back? Tomorrow? Or tonight?”

“Ben...” Then a nod, a resolute one at that. “Yeah. Yeah, come back.”

He watched her in the rear view mirror.

The plan, half hatched, _you’re so my Kid_ , churned in his brain as he gunned the Silencer toward Naboo and rolled the music in his head.

**_Be with me._ **

He couldn’t stop picturing her face as he put on the clothes of Kylo Ren, the way her mouth smiled just at the corners.

At least Finn—after cussing him out—had agreed to keep an eye on her without needing too much in ways of explanations. Explanations Ben wasn’t sure he had yet. Just his gut.

_Your gut is all you need, Kid._

He drove and tried to stifle down the rage. He drove and let out Ben Solo.

Mansions stood graceful and silent behind green shrubs and sparkling sound walls, the spaces inhabited by politicians, actors, doctors to the stars. Deceptive serenity available to the highest bidder. He grew up in the thick of it.

_Hell Kid, can’t say I liked it either._

You left how many times?

_But I came back._

“Come in, young Sir,”Threepio said before Ben even knocked, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the ancient butler almost smiled. “The upstairs study. You’re expected.”

The house seemed... energized. Not the quiet mausoleumlike before. And when brash female curses filled air, he coudln’t help but smile. His mother, the retired Senator, the head of countless committees, respected, worshiped or reviled, always had a way with words.

“You think I give a fuck about what you thought? And you! You get away from me with that or your next patient will be your own bloody body.”

Dr Artoor he didn’t appear all that flustered when passing Ben down the stairs. In fact, the short bald man gave him a tiny wink before disappearing into the state of the art kitchen, where Threepio no doubt poured generous dollops of whiskey into their tea.

The staff, loyal to a fault, did enjoy gossip.

In the ensuing silence, Ben continued up, through a hallway lined with pictures, fake smiles and candid open laughs, amidst awards and plaquees and portraits.

And through thepartially open door, he saw Skywalker nod his head,back haunched, his arms crossed over his body.

“I tried to do what’s best.”

Gods, how he hated that whine.

“Last time you did what’s best I lost him,” came the hissed reply. “You hadno right to keep him out of this house. You had no right to fucking trick me into letting Artoor drug me so I wouldn’t see my son.”

“Leia..”nails on a chalkboard.

“Get out.”

“But—“

“I swear I’ll run you over in this thing.”

For the first time in his life,somebody in his family stood up for him.

_We made our share of mistakes Kid. Doesn’t mean we didn’t love you._

His uncle pushed a hand over his face, then with a quick glance and begrudging nod, Skywalker walked past him, not even bothering to say a word, not even a fuck you.

Her back straight in the wheelchair, Leia Organa sat with the poise of a queen.

“Ben.”

“Mother.” He crouched and let himself be folded in an embrace. He wouldn’t fucking cry.

_No shame in crying, Kid._

“Thanks for... letting me come.”

“Don’t be rediculous,” she snapped and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Despite the pallor, despite the tubes and bags discreetly tucked behind her chair, her spirit stayed the same. “This is your home. And nobody will tell you otherwise.”

“I...” he had to clear his throat. “Thank you.”

She nodded, her hair braided around her head like a crown, and looked at him with eyes full of both hope and weariness. As if expecting him to say something stupid and ruin everything.

_Yeah, you got all that from me._

“How.. how are you feeling?”

“Oh fucking dandy,” she said in that dry tone. He hated that tone when he was a kid. Now? Even seeing her like this, he coudln’t help but find her tone amusing.

“I have the paperwork. Next time you need a contract backdated, don’t go around telling lawyers. Good thing Lando isn’t so high strung.”

“I... thank you.”

“Ben.” Rings glinted on her hands—she loved bold heavy pieces. Han used to bring her calla lillies because they didn’t hurt as much if thrown into his face.

“Not to piss on this beautiful reunion, but who knows how long new meds will last. Eventually, Luke will take over.” She looked at him, direct and strong, spitting at death itself when he fucked up so much simply by living.

“I honestly don’t care.”

“If you’re sure,” she said.“Feel like joining me for a drink?”

He had to smile at that. “I’m late for a soundcheck in LA, but... how about dinner next week? I want you to meet someone.”

***

When he left, Leia wished for a stronger body. At least she had the strength to put her arms around her son.

“It’s me,” she said when a grunt answered the number she didn’t need to look up to remember. “I hate to bother you but... I got a bad feeling about this.”

***

Rey paced.

She paced in her bedroom while he had showered and got dressed into Kylo Ren’s clothes one of his people left in a Luis Vuitton luggage on her doorstep.

She paced and looked out the window when he’d walked out of her apartment, beautiful and dark.

She paced and muttered angry words, but the beats didn’t line up, the rhythms wrong.

She hated waiting.

She hated thinking of her nightmare. She refused to think of flaming glass falling on his skin.

She paced when Finn showed up, followed by Poe and Rose.

She paced, her cane softly marking the time while her friends stuffed their faces with the remaining fruit from the basket Ben had delivered. She paced while they discussed the finer points of talking themselves through venue security. Surprisingly, Poe, who was supposed to be the most responsible one, being the oldest, and a doctor, had most experience in this sort of thing.

“You guys don’t have to do this.”

She coudln’t explain that it was just a feeling. Just images of glass hitting his skin.

“Don’t be a party poop.” Finn, who showed up just as she was about to get into her car to race down to LA, popped a piece of cheese into his mouth. “If you’re right, you don’t want him around that Snake guy. If you’re wrong, at least we get to watch a concert from back stage. Win win.”

“Snoke. And I don’t even know—”

Rose waived a hand. “I say you trust you gut. Besides,” she examined her nails. “Maybe I want to go.”

Finn let out a long drawn out whistle. “You did hook up with that guitar player last night!”

“Hey, I told you...” And Rose groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Fine. Yeah, I did and it was.. fucking... amazing.“

“Deets on the road.” Poe fished the golden dice out of his pocket. “Rey, text your boss to see if you can borrow this a little longer ? I bet that honey really flies.“

She looked at them all for a long moment. “I’m driving.”

Poe pouted. “Fine. Shotgun.” Then with snort, “Let’s go rescue the prince.”

****

He knew what he needed to do.

Ben simply didn’t know if he had the willpower to do it. Too many years as Kylo Ren, impulsive, screaming motherfuther. Too many years spent angry, letting himself be used like a damned pawn.

Too many years of manufactured rage.

With the recording pen hidden inside his pocket, he tried to simmer down the rage and think like Ben.

He made it through the sounchecks, with places and cues and curious glances thrown his way. He tried to follow that shivery feeling of seeing some of crew before, in fact, just recent.

He frowned at the “Greatest Hits” complication coverMitaka forwarded, for an album that hadn’t been contracted yet.

Patience, fuck him. Rey waited for how long? He could be patient for a few more hours.

He called her several times without an answer. Each time, she texted back, something inconsequential and light, nothing earth shattering but at least responsive, as if telling him things would be different this time.

He nearly told her of the plan. At least the part he thought he figured out. Knowing Rey, she would insist on coming here and she had conquered enough of her demons for him. And all those things aside, Ben couldn’t deal having that bastard near her again,

He couldn’t take chances. Not with Hutts. Not with his real name.

“Callout in ten.” came through the piece already in his ear.

He checked his phone again, debated pawing out more words with giant clumsyfingers. Something meaningful and real,

The man reflected in the lit up mirror for once didn’t look back at him with furious contempt. The leather vest—he was going to fucking burn it—covered up the travesty of the past eight years. Rey told him not to laser off the damned tattoo, but he couldn’t bear knowing that she saw it.

Vodka bottles untouched, he slid the leather to the side and looked down at her bitemarks.His cock twitched at the memory, and Ben trailed a fingertip over one of the rays above his heart just for good luck.

**_Be with me._ **

The melody was already there.

If everything went well, he’d take her shopping for some plants, and fuck her brains out this time tomorrow.

For now, he comforted himself pretending her scent clung to him somehow. Ripe peaches. He nearly texted Mitaka to put in an order of that body lotion that she used to love, then figured maybe he should ask her first.

**_Be with me._ **

He touched the piece of paper in his pocket. And since he needed to clutch something instead of putting his hands around Snoke’s throat when that bastard came into the dressing room, Ben picked up Anakin’s guitar.

“I come as summoned.” This was delivered with a sarcastic bow, the fucker armed with a self deprecating smile. “Where’s little Rey?”

His hands shook. “We need to have a fucking conversation.”

“Oh?”

So calm. So logical. So fucking civilized.

His hands clenched and unclenched, but he couldn’t go all Kylo Ren on the bastard. Not yet. Not until he got what he came here to do.

“We should, I agree. Last night, despite the liabilities, was a success.”

He stayed away if only not to risk a fist into that frail body, Snoke’s eyes accessing him as if he were a piece of meat.

“I got Rey to come.” The recorder pen in his pocket all but burned his skin.

“Yes and you turned out a great performance. I hope to see some of that energy tonight.”

Ben Solo in the mirror flared his nostrils. Kylo Ren barely stopped himself from ramming a fist into the old man’s jaw.

“I did some thinking last night.” He had to fucking maintain.

“Is that what you were doing? Thinking?” Morbid curiosity with just a hint of laughter.

Nausea mixed with rage inside his gut.

A pawn. That’s all he was. And maybe that’s all he would’ve been content with, if that bastard hadn’t fucked with Rey.

“What are the odds my ex,” he emphasized the word out of caution, ”being in a hit and run involving Hutts the night I left? What are the odds of you owing them favors?” He forced himself to stay stock still, to get the words out of his mouth calm and low instead of growling.

“Are you implying something? If so, say it.” No venom, but a small tendril of anger. A tilt of that bald head as if Snoke was studying a bug.

“You probably should thank you.” Kylo Ren staring at him in the mirror shook with rage.

Snoke licked his lips.“Now that you say that? Yes.”

“You wanted to ensure my success. I get that, although I can’t say that I approve your methods.” He said those words so fucking calm, and hoped the means were worth it.

The man looking at him in the mirror nearly threw up.

“I didn’t want to do anything drastic.” Placating tones, as if that fucker was trying to make him understand. “I simply needed her out of the way for you to see the possibilities yourself. Just for a little while. I had nothing to do with the rest. ”

If the guitar hadn’t been Anakins, it would’ve been in shards already, preferably over the old fuckers head.

“And Hutts?”

“They needed a favor.”

And Ben recalled the crates put in the plane that fucking night.

“But that wasn’t enough, was it.”

He couldn’t help but growl, couldn’t keep the contempt out of his voice.

_Easy Kid, don’t get cocky._

Snoke simply sighed. “It never is enough, I’m finding. No matter what I do, nothing is ever enough.”

He should’ve punched the motherfucker right there. Hell, the man in the mirror nearly reached out and snapped those fuckinglimbs in half. With his mother’s connections he probably woudln’t stay in jail too long, but fuck if Rey would have to wait again because of his damned temper.

“I’m afraid I’m finished with your drama.” Those obsidian eyes all but dared him to lash out. “I thought after last night you’d make the right choice, but you’re incapable of shedding off your past. Don’t bother to deny,” Snoke snorted at his own joke and lifted up a phone with a pin in damning vibrating red showing on the screen. “I knew exactly where you were last night. And if you think you’ll get me into some ridiculous trap, remember, you can’t record someone without their consent. Not if you want it to be admissible in court. And technically, you can’t record me at all, seeing as I’ve wiped your phone.”

A truly happy smile as he swiped gnarled fingers over his own device.

Arms crossed over his chest, the man in the mirror echoing his movements and all but vibrating in murderous rage, Ben stood shock still.

“You’ve made a lot of money for me through the years, so I say we should part as friends. Best of luck to you, young Solo.”

The dread he felt spiraling down his back became a shriek when the door opened and there she was, his Sunshine.

“Well now. Young Rey.”

That slimy laugh. That horrid full of pleasure whispered laugh was how Ben knew he horribly miscalculated. And since it was the time to act, he prayed to every god he ever heard of, and shoving everything, everything down into his gut, he put on the face Kylo Ren.

“The fuck you doing here?”

He could write sonnets of apologies, symphonies that broke hearts, to the way her face fell. The way those hazel eyes froze over, her lips parting before she firmed them once again. The way she put more of her weight on that cane.

Not a cane. Her staff.

“Young Rey.”Snoke’s whisper of her name dripped with delight and filled Ben with shuddering terror. “You and I didn’t have a chance to chat last night with all the theatrics. Perhaps—“

“Security!”

He didn’t give Rey a chance to speak, but he did look into her eyes, briefly enough to hope she’d understand.

Her face betrayed nothing at all.

Behind her, Finn and the scary girl stared at him, both open mouthed in shock.

“How the fuck did the groupies get in here?”

And because he had to, because inside his head he was already weeping on his knees, he all but pushed Rey at the closest bouncer that had come running. “Get them the fuck out of here. And sweep the fucking place! Do your damned jobs, because I don’t fucking feel safe.”

“Your mark, Mr Ren.”This from a timid little thing that had come running, her badge flapping against her chest. “The others are already at their places.“

He could ahear the crowd chant that name.

“Listen to that, young Solo. One last time.” A gleeful snort.

“I’m not doing shit until you make an announcement on stage, and these fuckers are kicked out. And you,” he pointed at Rey and felt his heart shatter to pieces at the stone hard look she gave him. “Here’s your fucking autograph.” And he scribbled on the torn piece of paper he kept in his pocket for good luck, then shoved it her with the recording pen.

“Don’t fucking come after me again.” He needed her to get the hell out of here, before it was too late. “Get out. Got that? Get the fuck out of my face.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW://injury recovery, surgery recovery, injury confusion and dissasociation.
> 
> I have a few crazy days coming up so posting ahead of schedule just in case!
> 
> Thank you to Dr Roslyn, Aurora Reylo and Elle for their input!

**_Then_ **

She hated the walker.

She hated the cane.

She hated being here, in these walls, but since this wasn’t real, nothingmattered.

She couldn’t hear words. No more beats. No more rhythm. Just cracks. Every time she moved, all she heard were cracks.

But it was allright because Rey floated somewhere dark, her limbs gone weak and slow and useless.

She’d dealt with the pain. Pain became her companion. Pain didn’t need to be begged to stay.

Then the lights switched on and blinded her with brightness. If she waited long enough without reacting, it would eventually turn off. Even Finn would eventually leave.

“Hi Rey.”

She huffed. They were determined to get her to talk, to pull her up and out of the water, to make her see reality. Except reality was pain and angry light, and this void offered her sweet silence.

She wanted Ben. She wanted to get back to floating.

“Rey.” Impatient this time.

“Dr. Dameron. A little late for rounds?” It had to be past eight. Long after dinner. Long after the dark set in.

Rey liked the dark.

“Poe please. And I’m officially not here.”

With that, she could relate.

“Your boyfriend’s currently passed out in my office. Third time this week, in fact.”

Ben? Hope flared, bright and strong. Except...

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend, Finn. Look, it’s not my business. But you have to know he’s hurting too. You need to let him in.”

She frowned and floated closer to the surface. Something had to be wrong here, she just didn’t know what. “Finn isn’t my boyfriend.”

“No?”

She floated high enough to hear something in the doctor’s voice, something like relief. Any other time, she would’ve done what what best friends do and tried to get the two of them together.

But this wasn’t any other time.

“Please tell him go home.” She closed her eyes and tried to float away.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She had to force her lids to open, to see Finn lean against the doorframe wearing yesterdays clothes.

“I told you to go home.”

“I heard you.”

“Finn.”

“Peanut.”

“I’ll leave you two alone.”

“No please, Doctor, just stay.” And Finn stepped in her room, his eyes shadowed, with creases on his face. He hadn’t left. He’d given her more shit about Ben, all but threatening to call him. But even when she cussed him out, when she made him swear he woudln’t say a bloody word then told him to just fucking leave, he stayed.

“Look Rey, you can’t keep doing this. You don’t want me to—” he stopped himself. “You don’t want to reach out, that’s your business. But babe, you were there for me when I came out, and it was the scariest thing I ever did. So you don’t get to do this all alone. I’m here. I’m with you. I just need you to be here too.”

She wiped the moisture off her face. Any other time, she’d be a good wingwomen and have the two of them leave together to fetch her something. Any other time, she’d have words and beats and rhythms on her breath, whirling in her mind instead of this shocking hot cracks anytime she moved her body.

But Finn was right.

He was still here.

She needed to be brave.

“I’m not using a bloody walker,” she said finally. “But lets try with the cane.”

**_Now_ **

Rey worked her jaw. Tested her toes. Ankles and knees.

Still working.

Maybe the heartbeat in her ears had subsided. The wild pulse inside her veins did not.

The stupid pen and paper in her hand all but burned her skin.

“Rey... I..” Poe came up behind her. “Babe, I’m sorry.“

“Come on,” this from the sheepish looking guard. “You all need to leave now.”

She saw Ben. Yelling at her. Terrified.

Fire and glass rained on his skin.

She leaned heavily on her cane right in yet another bright lit hallway, the guard’s long suffering face clearly sympathetic to her pain.

Ben and Snoke had already walked forward the muffled sounds of the crowd.

“Babe, you-“

“Hang on, Poe.” She shot a look at Rose, hoping at least a female brain would get her and leaned into the cane again to tried to listen what her guts were trying tell her between the cracks and that hot burn inside her hand.

“I should’ve let Finn beat the shit out of him,” came the muttered response. Then, “You mind if she sits down for another minute?”

The guard regarded all of them for a long time then nodded.

Rose simply watched with narrowed eyes. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Then Finn rounded at them from the corner. “I got a bad feeling about this.”

Gods, she loved her friends.

More cussing down the hall, this time with a snooty accent. “The bloody tits that man thinks that he is? I have a bloody contract—“ He stopped short when his gaze landed on Rose. “You made it.” And that grin...

And Rose, for all of her badass attitude, didn’t fight off a smile.“Hey.”

“Hello scrumptious.”

Everyone blinked. Everyone but Rose who may have blushed.

“I’m afraid I’m not playing tonight after all. Apparently I’m no longer in the band. Apparently there’s no band to be had. Phaz is already talking about suing.“

Flashes of glass and fire on his skin. _What’s my name?_ “Is he alone up on the stage?”

The ginger glared. “Told everyone to just get out. On a live fucking mic.” He shook his head and lifted that hurt gaze at Rey. “Eight years of friendship...”

“Hey LA!”

That rich voice flooded the air, the grit of fury and the joy of pain. “I’m Solo tonight.”

Why did that sound as a taunt?

“My final performance. Ready?”

The screams and affirmations were the answer. The few notes coming off the amp seemed a bit off,the melody bluesy, too soft for Kylo Ren. Then it picked up, the minor chords turned major then back minor, menacing, threatening.

Then soft again.

**“Be with me.”**

He growled into the crowed, into thestunned silence that settled in the stands.

 **“Be with me.”** Softer now, and Rey didn’t have time to wipe the tears.

**“Be with me. Through the darkness.”**

This time a whisper without music, just rich longing in his voice.

“The motherfucker had it all prepared. “ The ginger shook his head. “Just walked all nice and calm into his lead in spot and waited for Snoke to announce we were done. I can’t believe—“

“What did you say?”

He frowned at her, his redhair standing up in spikes from Rose’s hands running through his hair. “Excuse me?”

**“Be with me. Through the pain.”**

That voice swept over her, straight through her body, loving and terrifying as she struggled to piece together what her rapid pulsing heartbeat screamed inside her head.

“What did you say? About his call in spot?”

“Well.. yeah.” the man clearly wanted to snark but didn’t because Rose would belt him. “We all have our places marked so that they know where to put our lights. We need to hit our marks at certain points so that—“

She took off running.

**“Be with me. As my dying breath turns into life again.”**

The crowds of people swelled as she got closer to the boards and chords of the equipement, generators and computers, the people manning them too busy to notice her, or too busy keeping up with an impromptu song to see a wild woman running with a cane.

Or maybe the sight of Finn running behind her kept them from getting in her way.

Her limbs got heavyas if underwater. Her pulse pounded in her ears, in time with the rhythm he created in her head.

**“Be with me. When I’m angry.”**

That voice called to her, soothed her, gave her energy to dodge as someone finally copped to what was going on and tried to stop her.

Easy to dodge when she wasn’t underwater. Easy to dodge when she ran to the sun.

She had to be here, in the present, she coudln’t float away. She needed to see, to hear, she needed to make sure. She needed to get him off the stage.

There, up the stairs, up front, the lights so bright they burned her, his skin gleaming against leather, the back embossed with the red logo of the Knights of Ren.

**“Be with with me. When I’m sweet.”**

The crowd chanted his name and closed around her.

Breathe.

She couldn’t, but that didn’t matter. Somebody grabbed her,a hairy arm around her middle that lifted her up. “Rey!”

“Let her go!”

She kicked back even as Finn rammed into the heavy arms that held her, her heel landing on a knee and got a yelp before she was dumped on the ground. “Rey! Wait!”

**“Be with me. When shards of light—”**

Sparks. Lights and sparks and his frame with his back to herawash in crimson as he turned just enough for her to see the hard edge of his jaw and his frown.

**“—Beat back the darkness of deceit.”**

Somebody screamed, her cane a weapon in her hands as she barreled forward, as the pops of sound grew louder overhead. Then he turned, a dark angel awash in blood-red light, his beautiful mouth parting in a “No, Rey, stay back!”, and just like in her dream, the lights and sparks and shards of debris rained down.

Too slow, too fucking slow, Rey launched herself into his arms.

He stumbled back. The guitar fell.The force of her jump tumbled them off the stage, and something heavy landed on top of her just as those lights above her head went super nova.

***

They saidhis name.

His first first name. And the name Snoke gave him.

He wasn’t sure which one was real, only that he needed to get up, to run, to get to Rey, to get her the fuck out of here-

Get her away from the Hutts.

_Rey._

“Ben!”

There. He could hold on to that voice, the sweet cadence... was she screaming?

“Ben!”

Floating. He could float right there, secure in the bright cadence of her voice.

“Ben!”

_**Be with me.** _

“I’m trying!”

Was she scared? It didn’t matter, he was here. He was floating right there, couldn’t she understand? Everything was fine, he was at peace. Finally, he didn’t have to be angry, he didn’t have to loathe himself.

_Kid. Trust me. It’s not all it’s made out to be._

“Ben!”

A jab of pain. Not a lot, just a sharp sliver of agony. His arm? Somewhere on his elbow.

Then another.

“Ow!”

She fucking pinched him.

He was laying on the goddamned cement with flashes and sparks and lights and screams, and Rey was bending over him amidst a crowd of people.And this bright angel, the love of his life, just fucking pinched him.

“Ben.” Relief in her voice as she swam in and out of his vision. “Ben? Can you see me?”

He must’ve blinked beause she reappeared and got dark again.

“Rey?”

Was that his voice? So weak? Or did he dream it?

She needed to get out of here, away from whatever hell the Snoke got the Hutts to do. He’d known exactly what would happen as soon as Snoke had uttered ‘Solo’.

If he could just move his mouth to tell her, to warn her, get the bouncers to get her the hell out of here, she ‘d be safe.

“Ben?”

Why the fuck was she crying?

“Can you feel this?”

She fucking pinched his arm again. “Ben?”

He would have told her to just stop and fucking kiss him.

Better yet, maybe she could stop the tiny hammers in his head.

“Babe, let the medics have a look athim.”

“No!” Was that him who yelled?

“I got him.”

He knew that voice, the grunt reminding him of flying tackles and laughter, and the resentment buried deep when he stopped coming around.

“Hey. Can you look at me? How many fingers?”

Frantic, becauseRey disappeared, Ben tried to move, to twist to get her back. That’s when the floating lights dissipated into shards of agony, prickly and growing, the tiny rivulets now rivers, until his entire body felt enflamed.

He sucked in a short breath, even though it sent his lungs on fire. “Rey?”

“I’m here.” He coudln’t see her face because some idiot clamped latex bound hands around his neck, and that flash of purple gloves wasn’t remotely kinky. But she was here, somewhere here, and he tried to twist away, kicking his feet trying to get up when Chewie—Uncle Chewie?—pressed giant arms over his knees.

“Keep still, will you?”

“Rey?”

“I’m here.” Light fingers rubbing circles on his arm in soothing motions. Because she seemed to want him to comply, he let somebody shine a bright dot into his burning eyes.

“Do you know your name?”

Of course he knew his fucking name. “Ben.” Rey’s fingers dug into his forearm. “Solo.”

They needed to get out of here. He needed to make them understand.

“All right Mr Solo, we’re gonna put you on a board and get you all checked out. You’re probably all right, but just in case, okay?”

“Rey, you need to get out of here.” Something buzzedin his head, something electric scorched his lungs and nostrils. “Uncle Chewie, he’s got the Hutts—“

“Where is he? Kylo!”

He twistedfrom that voice, suddenly helpless, strapped to what must’ve been a gurney. And watched the man who gave him everything, who took his sun away, come close.

“Baby. Rey.” She wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t she moving? She needed to get away, he didn’t know what else that fucker would do now, but...

“How pathetic.” The hissing voice came at him from above. “Just like your grandfather, throwing it all away. For what?”

And in a blur, Snoke’s hand went into the flap of the pinstripe tailored jacket.

At his feet, Chewie snarled.

And Rey, guardian angel Rey, rose up in golden sunlit glory, bright, fierce and strong, and with a roar Ben felt in every fiber of his being, Rey swung out her cane.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter...
> 
> I’m going to miss those two.

“How are you feeling Peanut?”

“Fine.”

She was. She was bloody fine.

She may have beaten an old man to death with her cane, and she was fine with that. Maybe it wasn’t fine that she was fine with that, and maybe that was something to be worried about. Later. At this point, she was too far gone to care.

Later, she would wonder why she felt absolutely no remorse taking a weapon to a body, stopping only when he went down, a heap of wrinkled skin and expensive fabric at her feet.

Now? She could breathe, thank you, with the panic attack finally under control. Mostly. At least the worst of it.

And maybe she nearly collapsed from sheer overwhelm, from the visions of exploding light-sets above the stage replaying in her head, the pipes and glass and heavy heated cones littering the floor where Ben would’ve been standing.

He would’ve died with her words on his lips.

But Rey didn’t think of that.

She didn’t think of Ben helpless on that gurney, Snoke pulling out a gun. Luckily Poe and Finn caught her before she face planted on top of that unconscious bastard.

And maybe someone captured video of artist formerly known as Kylo Ren ripping apart the gurney straps and punching several medics trying to keep him still while he roared her name, but everything was fine.

Just fine.

She was no longer shaking. Well, mostly. She was no longnauseous—good thing considering the array of platters Senator Organa had sent up to the posh waiting area of LA’s top medical clinic for the famous and privacy minded. Where Rey had a short conversation with Ammalyn Holdo (apparently a family friend and Poe’s idol), and given a (mostly) clean bill of health.

She was no longer surrounded by cops because apparently she had a lawyer. Former state Attorney General Lando Calrissian, who hovered over her like a cape-wearing guardian angel amidst the questions from the cops and feds.

Feds, because apparently all this came down to mafia and money.

Rey wanted her damned cane, but since that has been taken into evidence (just keep saying you thought he was going to kill Ben, Lando kept saying), she fell back on a good old fashioned mantra.

**_Be with me._ **

And hearing Ben’s voice in her head was almost, almost, enough keeping her sane, enough to hold out until he finished meeting with law enforcement agencies who poured into the venue.

She didn’t think about going breathless with all the people pressing into her. She didn’t think about the motionless body on the floor, so small—was Snoke really that small?—who turned her and Ben into puppets.

A part of her hoped that she did really kill him.

A part of her was horrified that she felt no remorse at all.

A part of her hoped he’d spend at least several months completely helpless.

Nerves still raced in her belly. She’d been assured the breathlessness was normal. As was the mild scorch between her shoulder blades.

She refused meds for either one, and with Poe as her physician (albeit a star struck one with Holdo near), nobody pushed her further.

“Peanut?”

She realized she hadn’t answered Finn. “I’m fine,” she said and watched him roll his eyes.

“You already said that.”

Since Rose just stepped away to ask for a fresh ice pack for Rey’s back, she figured it was Finn’s turn to keep her occupied. To keep her present.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

He crossed his arms. “How about some breathing forms?”

She smiled at him, and to his surprise, planted a kiss right on his lips.

“His husband is right here.”

She planted one on Poe as well. “Thank you. So much. Thank you for being here.”

“Hey!”

Since it was only fair, she kissed Rose too now that she was back.

“And you. Thank you.”

She was here. Present. “I really can’t describe what it means that you guys came. That you stayed with me.”

The knock on the door saved her from gettingmushy.

Even as her pulse sped up, Rey knew it woudln’t be him, not by the polite and measured knock. The ginger haired guitar player made a beeline for Rose, wrapping himself around her as if she were his lifeline.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

Hard to sound tough and disinterested when a person is pressing kisses in your hair.

“Paps already got wind of it.” He waved a hand at their general direction. “Someone connected ‘Cane Warrior’ with ‘Sunshine’. You might want to lock up all your socials.” He buried his lips in Roses’ hair again.

The next knock was much more aggressive.

“I think the worst of it is done,” Leia Organa said in that commanding voice that didn’t seem to be effected by the late hour or the strain as she wheeled herself into the room, her posture that of a queen on a battle scarred throne.

The ring of braids around her head might as well have been a crown.

“LAPD is good for now, but they’ll want follow ups. I got everyone rooms at the Ritz Carlton and there a limo downstairs. Let’s get some rest and hopefully we can all go home tomorrow afternoon.”

“My son,” she looked directly at Rey and smiled so radiant, it made her look nearly twenty years younger. “Sends his apologies because ‘that fucker’ wiped his phone.”

Everyone in the room coughed to cover up the snicker. “Lando will get him to the Ritz when they are done—I’ve never seen federal agents look so happy.”

The others filed out of the waiting room, since it was obvious the restwas meantfor Rey’s ears alone.

How did the woman look so regal?

“He would’ve killed my son.” The shrewd eyes held Rey’s gaze, and in them, Rey saw a myriad of emotion. Regret. Worry. Hope. “You saved him.”

Rey still couldn’t process. “I just pushed him off the stage and nearly cracked his head.”

“And knocked some sense into him,” the other woman said. “He’s got a hard head. Like his father. You ever need anything, I’m in your debt.”

“Why?”

The retired Senator expertly wheeled around.

“Sorry, dear?”

“Why... would Snoke want to? He took so much from him, already, why try...” She coudln’t bring herself to say the words.”

The senator looked smaller for a second, a tiny woman in a big wheelchair that did nothing to diminish the strength of character that all but emanated from her frame.

“He thought he owned Kylo Ren. And when my son came back, he not only shed the power of that man over him, but also all the financial ties that came with him.” Fingers biting into the rails of her chair, Senator Organa shook her head. “He knew the Hutts had rigged the lightsets—he already admitted that. Something about retaliation—I’m not clear on the details. But that bastard knew and didn’t stop my son from going on that stage. If you hadn’t shown up...” She took a breath. “With my son dead, he’d have unfettered access to Skywalker money. He knows he’s done, so now he’s trying to take everybody with him, Ben included. I just want to be there to see his face when he finds out he won’t have money for protection. With all the singing he’s doing, he’ll need it if he wants to live.”

“Will he?” Rey wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. “Will he live?”

A shrug. “He’s a strong old bastard. Blind with pain but still talking. So terrified of anyone being on the Hutt’s payroll that he won’t let himself be treated.” A smirk. “Of course, Chewie made sure to accidentally give that silly recorder pen—who does that? He couldn’t fucking talk to me before going off on some idiotic half baked plan?— to someone on Hutt’s take.”

“Come on, let’s get some rest. I don’t know how long my son will be with the feds, but right now, I don’t want to push my weight around and interrupt them.”

And so Rey rode inside the limo, the LA lights a blur.

Inside the gorgeous hotel—no, she didn’t need anything to eat, and sure, she would love a change of clothes—she paced. She did some forms, the back cracks accompanied by slow and steady breathing. The shaking came and went, and with it, clammy hands,shivers, the dizzy spells.

She took a shower.

Then, she took a bath.

She slathered her arms in lotions and remembered how much she loved colorful pots and fruity scents.

She snuggled in a fluffy robe and surfed through channels on tv, then read fanfic on her phone, avoiding news or social media.

Plenty of time tomorrow.

She didn’t realize she fell asleep until a shadow fell over her and without thinking, she reared up a fist.

“Is there a universe where you don’t beat the shit out of me?”

He looked... exhausted. Wired. Beautifully hers. As shaken up as she was, when he slowly, carefully closed his arms around her and hissed our breath when she pressed her cheek against his chest.

‘What happened?” She didn’t remember him getting hurtbut—

Her back cracked when she pushed his shirt up, over that hard stomach. And then...

Red angry skin. Covered in plastic.

Her teethmarks from last night colored in pale dawn colored ink. And the words on his chest now read, “I FUCKING Love Sunshine,” with “love” in script over the blocky “FUCK.”

He looked down at her to watch her expression, his gaze so soft, she couldn’t help but stop a watery sniff.

“Is that... okay?”

She didn’t have words so she just nodded.

Because they both needed it, she tugged him down on the couch and curled against his side, both of them beat up and exhausted and... hopeful.

“How did you know? About the stage?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” A soft rumble of a laugh into her hair. “I didn’t really know, not until I took my cue. Just a bad feeling.” He arm lay hard and heavy around her shoulders. “I thought I saw the same people as last night... Gods, was that only last night? Fuck, that’s crazy. Mitaka sent me something about a “greatest hits” album, and there was something so fucking final about that.” His arm tightened around her frame. “I didn’t realize that bastard told the Hutts my real name. Then everything became so fucking clear.”

“The Hutts and Solos. Always something blowing up.” He pressed her harder against his side. “I had to get you out of there. Hux and Phaz too since they had been involved. As long as the attention was on me, I hoped you all would get out safely.”

She thought of lights. The debris raining down. Then took a moment to inhale his scent, cardamom and leather.

Home.

“You sang my song.”

“Yeah. Did you like it?”

“Yeah, but not as much as I love you.”

“I know.”

“Get the fuck out of my face.” And she slapped him, lightly, on his chest, to her horror, right where plastic crinkled.

“Fuck! “

“I’m—“

“I fucking deserved that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for saying that again.”

She thought back to that small moment of hurt, the sharp ache of betrayal, the pang that felt like death inside her heart when she burst into the dressing him and saw him next to Snoke. “You should be sorry.”

Sweet lips, soft kisses.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered over her neck, trailing shivery sensations under her jaw, over her shoulder, slow languid licks over her scars. “I’m sorry,” his breath ghosted between her breasts, over her peaking nipples, his mouth taking time to taste each one, slow, torturously slow.

“I”m sorry,” he mouthed into the planes of her belly, the texture of his lips caressing trails of heat over her skin.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured between her thighs and stroked long stripes of pleasure over her, the swirls and lines leaving her breathless, needing more, and only later, after a shivering orgasm, she realized he spelled the words into her cunt.

Maybe, in the dark, there was a shimmer of deja vu, the way she knelt over couch cushions, the way he thrust inside her, soft and slow until she begged for him to fuck her harder, deeper. More deja vu when he went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom she had found earlier while (discreetly) snooping through the suite.

She didn’t run out this time.

She was done running.

Later, she startled awake to find him staring at a lit up screen of his new phone.

“Are you okay?”

In the dark, she could tell he was shaking. “Lando just texted. Some fucking issue at the hospital. He’s dead.”

She didn’t need to ask who “he” was.

“Only thing I regret is that I didn’t fucking kill him myself.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry I let him near you.”

She beat a man to death.

Later, she’d wonder if she should feel guilty.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you sooner.”

She felt him tremble as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hair tickling her ears. “Can we.. can we go somewhere? Take a few days? Just you and me?”

“I... sure.” She didn’t know what that meant, but as long as they were together, she’d go to the edge of the galaxy with him.

“Poe’s been after me to take a break at Resistance. And apparently both my bosses are your family friends.”

“You’d be surprised how many people are,” came the dry answer.

“Oh.” That reminded her. “Chewie told me to give you something. We have to share it though.”

She had to get up and rummage for a bit, finally finding the keychain she’d left on one of the side tables.

When she got back and handed him the pair of golden dice, the expression on his face changed from soft love to shock.

“You know what this is?”

His arms wound around her again, his lips pressing into her hair.

“I think...” he cleared his throat. “I think my dad said ‘happy birthday, Kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been such an amazing journey and I can’t thank you all enough for the wonderful kudos and comments and feedack!
> 
> If I may, I’d love to thank some amazing people who gave me their time and patience and were so incredibly open to share their own experiences.
> 
> Sleeping Kitten, Summer, Elle, Nix, Dorothy: you were instrumental in shaping this fic, and I can’t thank you enough.
> 
> RedRose’s poetry gave me this beautiful line “your first first name” which helped put Ben’s arc into words. Thank you Red for letting me steal this line—a poet says so many beautiful things in so little words, and you have an amazing talent.
> 
> AuroraReylo, Elle, Dr Roslyn: thank you for wrangling through my run on sentences and spelling mistakes to see the deeper story and giving me your thoughtful feedback.
> 
> Cecilia: I loved brainstorming with you — thank you for giving me so much of your time and thoughts and helping me tie off all the unruly plot lines.


End file.
